Molly's Birthday
by Apprentice08
Summary: Sherlock John and Mary are on their way to pick Molly up and take her to dinner. The trio does not expect to overhear a short conversation between Molly and her ex-fiance. Sherlock deems it time to give Molly a helping hand, both may discover that love does not always get the fairy-tale ending, but understanding and respect can give love as many chances as it needs.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Sherlock, nor the characters. Just the plot and the story idea. If anyone wants to take this and change it up or add on to it please let me know so I can read it. Lot's of love, Apprentice08**

The skies over London were a fading palette of colors, with every passing moment they shifted on the spectrum of hues and shades. A blanket of dim sapphire was enveloping the east as the west still held traces of the sun's fiery nature. A mash of golden yellows, autumn oranges and rusty reds continued to follow the sun down to the horizon, eventually melding and bleeding into a masterful purple. The remaining soft yellow glow resembling that of a fallen star, way off and hidden in the distance.

Two men and a woman strode forward into the dusky night as twilight sparkled off the tall buildings, wrapped in their trappings of glass and metal. The tallest of the three walked with his hands wedged in the pockets of the belstaff he wore, a blue scarf adorning his neck but pulled tight to fight the chill in the air. His two companions were also bundled tightly, though, they braved the cold enough to clasp gloved hands and swing their connected arms mildly.

They chatted animatedly for a few blocks before they came to a stop to allow traffic to smoothly flow by, the the tallest coming to stop just behind the shorter two and leaning down to say something in a hushed voice.

Finally, as they hurried across the street to the other side, the conversation seemed to take a turn for the worse and the shorter of the two men barked at his messy haired companion, "No, Sherlock I told you, this is mandatory, no skips."

Rolling cold blue eyes in frustration the taller man gave a humph and snapped back, "Why are we even doing this? I don't see why we couldn't just have Molly meet us at Baker street."

"It's her birthday Sherlock, and lord knows after everything that woman has done for you the least you could do is come with us when we take her to dinner."

Mary, the shortest of the three, had a smile melt across her face as she peaked out from under the knit hat and glanced to the pale man lagging behind them.

"But, I took her on a day of crime solving, I offered to take her for fish and chips-"

"No, you are not going back to Baker street, you're going to sit through this with the rest of us and be a good friend."

"I still don't see why-"

"Because Molly's flat is closer to the restaurant, and if we had had everyone meet at Baker street you'd have tried to get everyone to stay in and play cluedo or help you with your experiments."

"Molly wouldn't mind, she helps me all the time when I'm at Bart's."

"Okay, your turn Mary-" he said breathlessly to his wife who had been rather poor at hiding her mirth, she could see her husband's patience wearing thin so it was time to nip Sherlock's protests in the butt.

"Sherlock, shut up. You're going and you're going to be gracious and you're going to behave or-"

"Or what?" he asked as he looked at her with indignation.

"Or I'll take all your hidden fags and flush them down the toilet." came her challenging reply.

Silence met the ears of the couple as Sherlock calculated the chances of her knowing every possible location that he could have hidden his smokes.

"Inside your skull, behind the periodic poster, strapped to the bottom of the table, inside the toaster, inside the oven, under the-"

"Alright!" he barked quickly looking to John. He wondered how many of those places his friend had managed to catalogue, "For god's sake-" The brunette continued to murmur as he snapped his coat closer and then pulled his blue scarf tighter, "Let's just get Molly shall we?"

It was John's turn to snicker as her looked to his wife and mouthed the words, ' _thank you_ ' while she nodded back and looped her free arm through Sherlock's, whispering to him conspiratorially she smiled at Sherlock softly, "Sorry love, but you really do need to be here. I promise, if it get's too monotonous, I'll play ' _deduce-the-waiters'_ with you."

Sherlock smirked and pulled Mary close giving her a peck on the fluff of her cap, "Cheers." he murmured as they finally arrived at the entryway to Molly's block of flats.

Sherlock held the door as John and Mary bustled in, they paused long enough for Sherlock to take the lead and guide them up the three flights to Molly's hall. The married couple had been chatting in hushed tones, making harmless jokes about the best ways to get Sherlock to behave once they got to the restaurant when the man himself held up a hand.

John halted at the sign from his friend, years of learning to read the man without need for words had left him rather in tune with Sherlock's movements. Mary, noticing her husband had honed in on Sherlock stopped her chatter too and then looked to where Sherlock's eyes bore down the hall.

She could only assume it was Molly's door, which was cracked open about an inch, the deadbolt having got in the way. Low voices could be heard emitting from the room and the three slowly approached.

Molly's voice finally came through and rose above the naturally occurring din of the old apartment building as they grew closer.

"You are being unfair-"

"Oh, I'm being unfair? That's rich-"

"Tom, please-"

Mary brought her knuckle up to her mouth and gave John a worried look, John glanced at her and then to Sherlock motioning for the man to knock, but Sherlock held up a hand for them to wait and leaned in closer to the crack in the door.

"Why can't you just give me a second chance Molly, you know I can make you happy."

"You know why, we've had this discussion-"

"Because of him? That god-damned arse-hole, the god of all crime solving, bloody Sherlock Holmes!"

"It's not just because of him!" Molly's voice was slowly raising and even though the trio knew that eavesdropping was wrong they were too far into it now, afoot in the door, trapped and with no room to turn around.

"You're lying to yourself now? You love the wanker and refuse to give it up. Face the facts Molly, HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU! HE ISN'T INTERESTED! He doesn't WANT you! The sod probably doesn't even like woman anyway- "

"Why do you have to be so mean-" came Molly's soft hollow voice, "Molly, please I'm sorry, it's just frustrating is all. I love you, I am devoted to you. I could make you so happy, give you anything you wanted, but all you can think about is the damn sociopath of Bart's hospital."

"He isn't a sociopath."

"Oh come off it! The man is nuts!"

"Stop it! Just stop it! I can't marry you when I am in love with someone else! I tried-"

"Try harder!" Tom pleaded as he seemingly crossed to her, his footsteps were muffled and John noticed Sherlock's posture tense, albeit ever so slightly.

After a moment of silence Tom spoke again, "Let's leave-"

"What?" Molly sounded like she had been side swiped and most likely she had.

"We could elope, get you out of here, away from Sherlock and Bart's and this city. We could go anywhere you want, the further away you get from him the easier it will be and then one day, one day you will wake up and Sherlock Holmes will be nothing but a fading memory-"

"Tom-" came Molly's resolute voice, "I've been trying to fall out of love with Sherlock Holmes for seven years. I've tried everything, ignoring him, going on holiday, dating other people, trying to be his friend, give him space, therapy-"

"You went to therapy over him?"

Mary looked to John whose face had screwed up in surprise as well as disbelief, neither could see Sherlock's response as his back was still to them, but he continued to listen intently, leaning in his ear almost at the crack.

"I've literally tried everything, do you know how frustrated, how tired I am- how much this hurts. If I go away I'll still love him, I'll just do it from afar, if I stay, at least I can be useful-"

"More like used." Tom bit out with bitter contempt.

"Whether I am useful or used I help solve murders, I bring peace to the loved ones who suffer-"

"You're not an angel Molly, you are the bringing of death. You don't save lives, you don't heal the sick, you cut open dead people and figure out what cruel irony killed them. And you will never be anything to that man but a means to an end."

"I'm his friend, Sherlock Holmes is a good man-"

"Jesus, you're just as twisted as the rest of them. The ex-soldier and his manipulative wife, the sociopath with the druggy land lady and the DI handler who drags you all in-"

"Tom!"

"No, forget it Molly, you can't be normal, I was a fool for trying to make you into something you're not. You can't handle boring, so _this_ boring is walking out the door and taking all my BORING love with me. You want to be a freak with the rest of um, be my guest, but I am out of here. Enjoy being morbid Molly for the rest of your life."

And just like that, the spell was broken as Tom's rather hard footfalls approached the door, Sherlock instantly stood straight and John and Mary looked around for someplace to hide. They had no chance of course, for as they went to head back down the stairs Tom flung the door back revealing all three, "Oh god!" came Molly's dread filled voice.

The look of anger on Tom's face faltered a moment before his eyes narrowed, "Some family Molly, they even eavesdrop, perfectly normal." Tom didn't wait but shoved passed Sherlock and moved passed John as the sandy blonde slid protectively in front of his wife and gave the younger man a very hard look.

Mid-way down Tom turned and glared back at Sherlock, the man in question stood poised as ever, his arms clasped tightly behind his back, his own narrowed glare focused solely on Tom, "Bullocks." the man murmured before he turned and made his way out of the building.

The three stood in silence, not sure what to do, until they heard a soft almost inaudible sob from Molly's apartment. Mary acted then, pushing passed the men and quickly seeking out Molly who was at her kitchen table, her head in her hands.

"Oh darling, shushush, don't let it get you-"

"How much- how much did you hear?" Molly asked eyeing the men who were still lingering in the doorway, both seemingly keeping an eye on the stairs down the hall and the women. The blonde had tucked down on a knee in front of Molly, having managed to dig a tissue from her pocket, she dabbed at the girl's face.

"Oh, don't you worry, not as much as you think- it's fine."

"I'm fine, it's all fine. If you just- if you just give me a moment I can pull myself together and we can g-go to the restaurant."

"You sure?" Mary asked, a look of concern and question merging on her face, "Oh yes, I need to get out of here for a bit- and I'm a bit peeky after-" Molly's head flicked sideways to emphasize the doorway Tom had just stormed through.

"Dessert for dinner then?" Mary asked with an understanding smile.

Molly laughed a little and nodded, she stood and after a quick hug from Mary she strode off through her apartment leaving the three to wait silently in the warm but small kitchen.

Molly had never been so embarrassed in her life, and she took a verbal lashing from Sherlock on a weekly basis. To think, he had heard that. God, she hoped he hadn't heard all of that. She could only pray that Mary had not been trying to save her from her shame by lying, she couldn't even imagine facing Sherlock now. It had been pretty damn obvious to anyone that she was in love with him, but she had always tried to be respectful of his distaste for romance. She didn't want to be the one to make him uncomfortable, to accidentally push him away. She wanted to be his friend, if she couldn't be anything else.

But now, he would probably avoid her like the plague for the rest of the month until this all settled and he felt comfortable enough to come back around her. The very thought of him feeling like he had to hide from her because she couldn't control herself-

' _Tom, you bastard_ -' Molly felt her anger flair and in one of her VERY rare spouts of tempur she picked up the first book she saw upon entering her bedroom and threw it full force at her vanity.

The resounding crashing seemed to pull her from her rage and as it faded she looked to see the book and realized it was the first medical book she had ever been given, her father had given it to her right before he-.

Instantly Molly was on the ground, kneeling in the shards and digging the book from the wreckage, pulling it to her chest and resting her chin on the fragile binding. She must of read this book a thousand times, "I'm sorry daddy." she murmured as she stood on shaking legs and felt a minor but sharp pain shoot through her knee.

She glanced down to see a cut with a small shiny piece of mirror sticking out triumphantly from its new perch.

"Damn-" She said with an exasperated air as her forehead came down to meet her palm, all three were surely going to be running up the stairs any minute, only to find the outcome of the infamous Hooper tempur...

"Ahem-"

Molly jumped and spun to see Sherlock standing in the doorway, his eyes scanning over Molly, the vanity, the mess on the floor and then to her book and finally down to her knee.

"Oh! Sherlock, I'm so sorry! I'm alright, just dropped my- mirror?" Molly said desperately glancing around the room for an excuse to the loud noise and her current state. When she realized there was no real excuse besides her poor excuse of self-control she deflated and glanced at the book in her arms before she laid it onto her bed.

"My tempur. It's a nasty thing when I actually let it get the best of me." Molly wrung her hands and looked down to her feet, "I'm usually so good about it but-"

"You're bleeding." came Sherlock's voice, it was soft and low and Molly stared at him a moment before her head jerked down and she gave a weak smile, "Oh! Yes! I cut myself. No worries, I'll get it patched up. Just, would you wait downstairs-"

"You'll need help dressing it." and then Sherlock was in the room removing his coat, scarf and gloves in one fluid motion as he stepped around the shards on the floor and headed to her ensuite bathroom.

"B-but John and Mary-"

"Have been sent on to the restaurant to procure the table and meet Graham-"

"Who?"

Graham, Graham Lestrade-" Sherlock was now digging through her bathroom for supplies to fix her wound and his deep voice was muffled so Molly stepped closer, "You mean Greg?"

"Yes, but if you expect to eat we need to get there before John orders, he does tend to eat more than his fair share, especially if he is not paying."

"Wha- who's paying?" Molly asked, now suddenly aware that she had been helped up to sit on the bathroom counter and Sherlock was kneeling in front of her armed with a pair of tweezers and a bottle of antiseptic.

"I am- well, Mycroft is, he sends his love but unfortunately can't make it, tied up in something with Russia at the moment and told me to put it on his tab."

"Oh-" was all she could get out before the antiseptic was poured over her wound and she suddenly found herself sucking in air and fisting the hem of her t-shirt, not aware at all of how high she was pulling it as she squished her eyes closed.

"Oh, oh, that's a nasty piece of work that bottle, it's like acid." Molly said trying to ignore the feeling of Sherlock doing his best to maneuver the mirror shard out of her knee with the least amount of damage possible.

Silence followed as Sherlock finished fishing out the pieces from her knee and started the procedure of wrapping.

Molly realized then that Sherlock was being more than accommodating and she would have to remember to get him a good juicy body part-

A sigh escaped her and she ended up looking down at her fisted hands, a lone tear coming to her eye and splashing down her cheek.

"Mm? Something else the matter?" Sherlock asked not looking up from his administrations.

"No." Molly said as she turned to glance over her shoulder and look into the mirror behind her, the red blotchy face that greeted her made her frown harder and she turned forward again realizing that this was actually the first time Sherlock had ever seen her cry. She had promised herself she would NEVER cry in front of him, no matter what he said or did, but did this really count if he was not the cause?

"Sure?" came his reply and Molly leaned forward a little to see that Sherlock was putting away the medical supplies and cleaning the blood off the floor and from her foot and shin.

Sighing in defeat Molly finally spoke, "I was just thinking about how I could thank you for being so kind. I thought a nice body part would be a good way to say thank you, but then-"

"You realized you really are as morbid as Tom suggested, and judging by your response to his snide but apropo nickname, I assume he is not the first one, in fact, to call you ' _Morbid Molly_.'"

She should have expected him to know the cause of her sorrow but she nodded anyway and gave a very small smile, "Brilliant as ever." she said as Sherlock helped her down and continued to give her support as she tried bending her suddenly very sore knee.

They slowly made their way out of the bathroom, Sherlock hitting the light off as they passed through the doorway, Molly limping slightly as he continued to support her until they reached her bed where Sherlock helped her to sit.

Molly remained quiet as Sherlock moved to clean up the glass, "Oh you don't-" but a look from the man's sharp blue eyes made Molly swallow her tongue and she watched as he made quick work of the remnants of her temper-tantrum.

Finally, he came to stand before her and Molly looked up to him, "Thank you Sherlock, you've done more than I exp- I just mean, thank you."

Sherlock gave a curt nod and then looked around her room a moment before his eyes landed on a plain and simple green dress hanging from her wardrobe door.

"For tonight?" he asked as he pointed at it with his finger, turning his body slightly as he did so.

Molly nodded slowly as her fingers subconsciously slid over the edge of the wrap protecting her torn up knee, Sherlock gave a curt nod before he reached for the dress and then laid it on the bed next to Molly, "It's chilly out, I recommend you wear those abhorrent stocking things that women seem so impressed with."

"Alright." Molly said softly and before she could thank him Sherlock was out the door and softly shutting it behind him. She stared for a moment more before she felt something inside her pull together and she pushed herself up with a new resolve. Before tonight was over, Molly Hooper would give Sherlock a proper thank you.

MSHMSHMSHMSHMSHSMSHSMSHSMSHSMSHSM

Dinner was splendid and Molly had never felt more loved. Between John and Mary, Greg and Meena and Sherlock's special birthday gift of perfect behavior she felt happier than she had felt in months. The best part, her trio of eavesdroppers had not said a word about what had happened when they had come to pick her up.

Meena and Greg had remained blissfully in the dark and Molly was grateful as it would have taken the topic of conversation and thrown it out the window. It was nice to talk about normal things and get to feel normal for a few hours, especially after Tom's tirade in her kitchen. She maybe Morbid Molly Hooper but she had good friends that made her feel special and wanted and that's all she cared about.

Sherlock had been quiet through most of dinner, at one point Molly swore she felt his fingers grace over her leg but when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye he was listening attentively to John and Greg prattle on about the most recent football game. Both his elbows on the table, Sherlock's mother would have screamed if she were here and that made Molly smile.

After everything was eaten, cards and small trinket gifts given, thanks received, dessert ordered and then coffee sipped everyone was stuffed, tired and more than ready to go. Sherlock used Mycroft's card to pay and then they were all up and heading for the door. Meena hailed a cab to take her across town but Lestrade, who had been spending an awful lot of time with Molly's friend, elected to walk awhile with the group.

Greg, John and Mary moved ahead and Sherlock hung back with Molly, she walked slow on account of the minor pain still throbbing in her knee, "How's your-"

"It's fine." Molly said holding her purse strap tightly and trying to pull her coat closer, "Thank you, for all you did for me today. I know it must have been hard for you to-"

"Think nothing of it. After all, you've done many things for me."

"Still, it was nice."

Sherlock nodded and they continued to walk in peaceful silence, listening to the animated conversation of the trio ahead of them. Molly thought they would say no more and was about to delve into her memories of how wonderful tonight was when Sherlock's deep voice broke through and she turned to look at him, "Hmm?"

"I asked you if you meant what you said."

Molly thought a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall what she had said recently that he could be referring too, when nothing came to mind she looked to him but was greeted with nothing but the side of his face as Sherlock stared ahead.

Suddenly, the good feelings she had been reveling in all night sank to the pit of her stomach and she jerked her head to look back at him, "Do you- do you mean the conversation with Tom, Mary said-"

"She said what she did to spare you feelings of embarrassment, and obviously Mary is more than ready to pretend like the entire event did not happen. That is fine for her and John, but the topic of discussion did in fact have to do with me, as such, I feel entitled to tell you the truth and in turn know the truth. We heard most of it, no doubt we showed up only a few minutes after Tom. What I want to know then, is, did you mean it?"

Molly felt the shaky breath enter her lungs but as she went to speak no words came out and the breath blew through her lips and she sagged into her steps until she all together stopped walking and turned to Sherlock, "You know the truth Sherlock, you need not ask for what you already know."

Sherlock had stopped walking and had turned to look at her with a mild intensity, scrutinizing her as if she were almost fascinating but not quite high enough on his list.

"So, you've tried unsuccessfully for seven years to stop loving me. Yet all attempts, therapy included, have failed? Interesting."

Molly felt her cheeks burst with heat and color at the mention of the therapy but she only averted her eyes and nodded her head tightly as she wished she could melt into the street.

"I honestly thought I was becoming obsessed, unhealthily obsessed and that soon enough I would turn into some obnoxious fangirl who meant nothing to you but detestable annoyance. I went to the therapy as a precaution, I wanted to be your friend Sherlock, I didn't want to take the chance of scaring you away- I mean, oh god, no I don't mean I've stalked you or that I didn't want you to be scared so you wouldn't run away I just meant-"

Sherlock gently took her twisting fingers and pried them apart before holding them in his, "You are ridiculous Molly Hooper." Sherlock said with a gentle smile and Molly stopped talking long enough to look up at him, instantly becoming entranced, as was per-usual, as she looked into his bright eyes. Thier interest had intensified but his face remained gentle and kind, such a rare sight Molly wished she had a mind palace of her own so that she could store it away in.

"Sherlock-" Molly called softly as she felt her face turn up more towards his, "Mmm-" he hummed as he leaned down a little towards her, "Why did you want to know if I meant-"

"I have never been so loved by anyone Molly Hooper. Nor have I ever loved anyone as much as you love me."

Molly looked down and a proud smile filled her face, "I don't mind loving you Sherlock, I just never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable enough to not be able to focus on the work. I know how much it means to you."

Gentle fingers cupped her chin and raised her face back to his, "I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and blind in the face of love, but for you Molly Hooper, for so many years of love and loyalty, I will always allow this sentiment."

He leaned down slowly and Molly closed her eyes ready for the ever re-occurring, but always welcome, chaste kiss on the cheek. However, Sherlock surprised her when his hands came to slid up her neck and he gently placed his lips on hers. He lingered and stepped a fraction closer, deepening the kiss as his tongue slowly slid into her mouth and she allowed him entry.

She kissed him back, slow and easy, savoring this moment of bliss, not sure that it would ever happen again. Her lips tingled as he pulled away, body nearly goo and the pit of her stomach pooling with a warm glow that permeated her entire being.

Opening her eyes she had expected him to pull away but when she found him still lingering only inches from her lips she leaned in again and gave him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, "Thank you." she whispered softly into his ear, her eyes briefly fluttering closed again as she took in his scent with a long slow breath, "For everything."

When they finally pulled away they continued to look at each other a moment longer before Sherlock peered to the left and Molly looked down with a secret smile, a movement in the distance caught both their eyes and they glanced up to see the group stopped a couple yards ahead.

John and Greg shared looks of utter shock while Mary had a rather large smile plastered on her face, "Right, shall we go?" Molly asked as Sherlock cleared his throat and straightened his coat, "Yes."

As Molly started to walk she let a gentle lazy smile slide across her face, which only intensified when Sherlock gently took her hand in his. They caught up to the group and he released her and Mary quickly hooked Molly's arm in hers and towed her off, Sherlock watched after them as John and Greg pounced, their questions pelting off him like pebbles off car tires.

 **A/N: I hope you liked this, it was sort of cannon sort of not as there are plenty of references to season 3 but obviously this would not fit into anything after the sign of three. It's a one-shot but I also hope it kept in character a little, not too OOC. Let me know what you thought. Happy 2016.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I got inspired and decided to write a 2nd chapter for the fan favorite ship Sherlolly! I did make up the backstory that accompanies Molly's mother and the backstory of her father's death. I do not own Sherlock or the characters, only the story and plot line of this are mine. I don't imagine they would actually make Molly's mother this mean but I wanted to. : ) enjoy.

Molly's Mother

Dust particles danced whimsically through the rays of light that penetrated the curtains in 221 B, the often dangerously critical eyes of Mary Watson watching it in a less than interested gaze as her jaw rested in the palm of her hand. She breathed out, her lips billowing like fabric as the air flew past her lips and ended with a rather aggravated huff.

"Sherlock, darling, enough-"

"But don't you think-"

"No, there is no conspiracy going on at the newsstand down the street. Stop trying to come up with excuses and calm down."

"I am calm, perfectly calm."

John, who had been making a cuppa in the kitchen let out a little gawf of satisfaction before he moved to the living room and set the culmination of his hardly difficult task before his wife.

"Thanks, love." Mary offered as her eyes shifted from kind to hard and refocused on Sherlock with an intensity that made John smile even bigger.

"You did this right before her birthday dinner too. Why is it, whenever we make plans to spend time with Molly outside of work, in between cases, you try desperately to escape it. You're a detective, surely you know the futility of trying to deny me, especially while pregnant."

John sank into his chair, the entire time his mirth growing, he picked up the paper and started to pretend to scan through it. A sad guise that both his wife and Sherlock know would allow him to listen to Mary dig at Sherlock without actually having to deal with being a part of the conversation.

"Do shut up John, the humor you've found in this situation is unwarranted and I find it hints at the possibility of you being just as sociopathic as me."

John instantly dropped the paper onto his lap, it crinkled and protested before John flung it onto the floor with a rather athletic disregard.

"Why DO you always get so wound up whenever we go someplace with Molly. The birthday last month notwithstanding, you crawl up the walls anytime we have plans to hang out with Molly outside of work."

John had just successfully deflected Sherlock's insult and the detective looked with frustration at Mary who winked and sipped daintily at her tea.

"Maybe you are not aware, after all, normal people are always so dim-"

"Sherlock-" John warned as he glanced from his friend to his wife and then back, "Watch it."

"Molly Hooper is in love with me, she has been in love with me for seven years, and has tried desperately, though with little effect to quell her feelings. Anytime I am within three feet of her outside of the lab her….feelings….are quite obvious despite her rather sad and pathetic attempts to be respectful of my own blatant distaste for such things as sentimental as love."

"So, you hate having to deal with how awkward it is to be around someone who loves you while everyone else and yourself know the feeling is not returned?"

"Astute as ever Mary." The blonde woman smiled before she set her tea aside and stood up slowly, rubbing her swollen belly and waddling over to Sherlock. She looked up into his face and Sherlock looked down at her, his eyes narrowing with interest as she peered into his eyes.

"What are you do-"

"Hush." Mary said as she took his wrist in her hand pressing her fingers over his pulse, moving her face to catch Sherlock's eyes again as he had started to look away.

"What-"

"Wait." Mary said ignoring John's confusion as she leaned in and whispered to Sherlock, "Molly loves you Sherlock-"

His eyes continued to look into hers, Mary having the ability to manipulate and distract others just as easily as Sherlock could, "Mary-" Sherlock warned but Mary disregarded his warning and smiled, "She loves you, she is your friend, and she knows where you stand. She is willing to take what she can get, but she can't help loving you, so maybe doing what you always have done is the only thing you can do. Give her a kiss Sherlock, and appreciate the fact that you have a woman who will love you forever and require nothing in return."

Mary stepped back, having achieved her goal and made her way back to her seat, Sherlock staring after her looking increasingly confused. John joined him in this look of confusion as they both followed Mary with their eyes. She sat as if that awkward and strange moment had never happened and glanced adoringly at her tea before taking another sip.

The awkward silence stretched on before a knock at the door sounded through and sliced the quiet and all three bid enter simultaneously to the unknown party before glancing between each other again.

Greg Lestrade walked in then and stopped, the smile on his face faltering when the strange energy in the room washed across him.

"What happened?" He asked, his curious eyes peering from each person before finally landing on John, hoping the regularly astute man would guide him through the awkwardness that normally surrounded Sherlock.

"We're just waiting for Molly." Mary said, a smile lingering on her lips.

Sherlock clicked his tongue before he turned and gave a very forced smile, "Yes, Molly, perhaps you spied her on the way over?"

"No, but I got a text from her. She will be late about twenty minutes, some emergency came up."

"Everything alright?" John asked as he looked over his shoulder from his chair to question his friend.

"Well, she wasn't specific but she said she didn't need help and would get here as fast as she could."

"Wonderful, more waiting." Came a sarcastic reply from Sherlock before he thumped grumpily over to his favored chair and plopped down in utter defeat and frustration.

"Bit of a mood today?" Lestrade asked looking to John.

"How'd ya guess?"

Sherlock didn't respond, just rolled his eyes and thumped his head back on the backrest of his chair before closing his eyes and steepling his fingers.

"Whelp, he'll be good now for a tick. So, you Mrs. Watson, are you going to tell me what all the strange behavior was about just now or am I going to have to guess?"

Greg moved closer to hear but before Mary could even start another knock and a resounding yoo-hoo came from a suddenly frantic Mrs. Hudson.

All, save Sherlock, looked to her and her eyes said very quickly that something was happening, "What is it Mrs. Hudson?" Came a dull reply from Sherlock who remained in his pensive state and everyone jerked to him in surprise.

"A woman, who- she says she's- she wants to talk to you Sherlock, she's adamant."

John stood and crossed to the elder woman and placed his hand on her shoulder to try and ease her anxiety, "regrettably, Mrs. Hudson, we are all about to leave to go to the-"

"I will only take a few minutes of your time Mr. Watson, I won't take no for an answer and I will see myself in and out." came a very cold voice from the hall. John, who had been taken by surprise looked in time to move out of the way as a older yet smartly dressed woman pushed in between he and Mrs. Hudson and came to stand before Sherlock's slumped form before glancing around and all but sneering at the shabby flat.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson, we'll take care of this." John said reassuringly as the landlady nodded and headed back towards her own flat.

Sherlock's eyes cracked open and before John could protest to the woman's rude behavior he sat up quickly and continued to scan the woman before him.

W _atery brown eyes, auburn hair that's graying at the sides, very well off, very rich blood and tastes. One, no, two small dogs, both award winners. Open face but secretive and not trusting of others. Well guarded and intelligent but vain and controlling. Widow, recently remarried to a man of high standing, most likely in the government or politics. Pale complection, ages well, no surgeries, petite frame but strong willed-_

"If your powers of observation are as keen as everyone seems to think I believe I need no introduction. Are my assumptions correct Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock's brutally intense eyes scanned her up and down subtly and then an almost cruel smile slide across his face, "Oh yes, I say they are. John, will you please get a chair for Mrs. Hooper? She has come all the way from America after all, I am sure she is very tired."

All in the room froze and looked to the icey woman who stood with her head held high, a look of hawty derision on her face as she continued to stare at the famous detective.

"Mrs- Mrs. Hooper? As in our Molly?" Greg asked as John suddenly broke from his shock and grabbed their spare wooden chair, slipping it behind the obviously well-bred woman as she sat down with a grace and dignity befitting a queen.

"She is not YOUR Molly inspector, she is MY Molly and she is the exact reason I am here today. I do not have a lot of time, as I am aware my daughter will be here shortly but this is the only opportunity I could find. I wish to speak with you Mr. Holmes about the crimes you have committed against my daughter."

Sherlock, who had continued to deduce the woman before him as she had continued to prattle on finally snapped his attention to her face, his eyes narrowing as he spoke softly, "I know of no crimes I have committed against your daughter."

"Do not play dumb with me Mr. Holmes. I can understand Molly's infatuation with you. You are famous, handsome and highly intelligent. But what you have in brain power you lack in social decorum and I am tired of sitting on the sidelines and watching my daughter suffer."

"To which suffering do you refer Mrs. Hooper? I have come to find that there is a high probability that your daughter is a masochist and an excessive perfectionist. Coupled with anxiety, mild OCD and a severe case of fraternal abandonment issues."

"I am referring to the suffering you cause daily by remaining in her life and not putting a stop to this sick game of cat and mouse."

"I'm confused, are you accusing Sherlock of something?" John asked clenching his fists and taking a step towards the woman who was now eyeing him with venom.

"Oh, no doubt." Sherlock quipped as his eyes continued to drink in the strangely abundant amount of data coming off this woman.

"I believe what Mrs. Hooper is trying to say is that I intentionally use her daughter's feelings for me and lead Molly on in order to bend her to my will that I may use her for my own purposes such as gaining access to the lab, body parts and other such things. In this, she would be correct."

Mrs. Hooper nodded stiffly before she gave a sniff and looked away from the young man before her and eyeing him sideways, "I am glad you are aware of your own manipulations, I did expect to have to drag it from you-"

"What you are NOT aware of Mrs. Hooper is that Molly is also one of my dearest and most respected friends. And while, it is true, I have manipulated her feelings so that I could get things I require for cases or to alleviate my boredom I also have done many things for her and have on multiple occasions returned her favors in kind through various means."

"A kiss on the cheek pales in comparison to the things my daughter has risked for you and your- hobbies."

Sherlock's eyes lit up with mischievousness and he glanced to John, "My my, we have done our research haven't we? Perhaps you've studied how to be overbearing from my brother, though judging by your true age I'd say he may have learned it from you."

"Sherlock-" Mary barked under her breath, though she was hiding a smirk poorly behind her arm as she cleared her throat.

"No need to faine temperance Mrs. Watson, anything this man says to me will not disturb an ounce of me as it would most others. I have had many a year to build a suit of armor against abusive tongues such as his. Wag all you want Mr. Holmes, you'll not chase me from here until I have spoken my fill."

Sherlock gave a smirk, "Very well, pray continued then Mrs. Hooper. We are all very interested in your thoughts on my relationship with Molly."

By this point all were sitting save Greg who leaned against the door frame and stared at the back of Mrs. Hooper's head with disdain. He had met his fair share of rabid old birds like this while working for the yard, the fact that sweet innocent Molly could come from this icey woman was beyond all in the room, save Sherlock who had yet to show any surprise no matter what the woman said.

"As you know Mr. Holmes, Molly's father is dead. He died of cancer some ten years again and since then I have remarried. While Mr. Hooper had not been a rich man and did not come from the same class I loved him dearly and we married against my parents wishes. We had Molly, only Molly. She is my greatest treasure. So you can understand why I don't very much like the idea of a young sauve rogue like you parading about her, taking and eating away at her and keeping her from having a family."

"As you've probably noticed with my daughter, Mr. Holmes, she is a very strange and flighty girl. Highly intelligent but rather distasteful in her choice of profession. She is rather air headed when it comes to certain aspects of life but has a good sense of people. She doesn't quite fit in anywhere despite all my attempts to help her meet the right people and make the right friends-"

Mary leaned forward and cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, is this supposed to be a roast of your daughter or are you trying to defend her?"

Mrs. Hooper eyed Mary skeptically, "You won't understand until your precious little on has arrived. You've no idea how important they are to you until you have to see them struggle with things every other normal child can simply just do."

Sherlock seemed to peek up at this and he steepled his fingers before speaking, "You are speaking of your daughter as if she had some form of Autism or was a special needs child. Molly is a fully functional young woman who has made a very large amount of progress through her medical field despite her age, I am not clear on what disadvantages you may be refering to."

"You wouldn't be would you." Mrs. Hooper said icily, "Perhaps for once your have seen but not truely observed. My Molly is quite a brilliant actor. Though the good doctor's blog does claim you do miss things on occasion."

John cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, "What do you think Sherlock could have missed?"

"You think her stuttering is bad when she gets flustered or embarrassed, you should have seen her as a child. Couldn't form a single word until she was seven. She was always tripping over herself too, it took two years of physical therapy to fix her twisted ankles and six years of ballet to help her gain her balance and muscle control. So you can imagine how limited her social skills were until she was able to go to school. Then, she found science and she became even more limited and socially outcast. I had hoped she would lean more towards law or politics, even a profession in ballet or music would have been preferable to the study of pathology. She is very gifted, no matter what hobbies I allowed her to participate in. She was always the number one, always the best. Even her obsession with the sciences was far beyond that of any of the children in her class. You can't imagine how many dead things I found in our freezer when her father gave Molly her first book of post mortem preservation."

"You're kidding-" Greg asked in shocked as a smile spread across his face and he looked to John and nodded his head sideways at Sherlock before chucking his thumb over her shoulder behind him towards the man in questions icebox. John raised a finger to his lips and shook his head no.

"Not at all. I nearly had a heart attack when I found a half frozen rat from one of our rat traps lying in our ice box dissected." Not bothering to look at Greg as she answered.

"That explains a lot." John whispered to Mary as the woman smiled at him and giggled softly.

"What is your point Mrs. Hooper?" Sherlock asked.

"My point Mr. Holmes is that my daughter has the potential to be anything she wants, but she chooses to dabble with the morbid and make friendships with the strange. What then, could you deduce about her prospects of finding a nice respectable man to settle down with and start a family?"

"Ah-" Sherlock whispered as another smirked slid across his features, "The truth comes out. This has nothing to do with protecting Molly from heartbreak so much as it does her chances of having domestic bliss."

"My Molly would do just about anything to not be bored Mr. Holmes. And while I know she wants a family, she is terrified of domestic bliss, as you so perfectly put it, and I think feels it would stand in the way of her work. Though she is able to find men who can look past her strange career choice she is unable to sustain it. Between her morbid fancies and her friendship with you and yours it is near impossible for her to find anything remotely stable. And I worry for my daughter, constantly. She had finally found a young man who was suitable for her and I was quite ready to pay for the wedding and all their needs until it abruptly ended, not a word on the matter from Molly have I heard since then. She simply ended things with Thomas and went back to her solitary life of dead bodies and science experiments."

John took this opportunity to butt in and he did so with an icy tone of his own, "Molly is a grown woman. If she chose to end things with Tom I am sure she had a good reason. She can make her own decisions."

"She ended things with Thomas because she was still in love with you Mr. Holmes. I know this for a fact. She thought it wrong to marry one man while she was still in love with someone else. And I refuse to watch my daughter go down in flames because of you Mr. Holmes."

"As my colleague has so perfectly stated, Molly is an adult. If she chose to end her engagement that is her decision. I cannot help if her feelings for me were the deciding factor. As I am sure you are aware I have made it known of my own feelings towards her and strived to ensure she understands my strictly platonic desires where she is concerned. I cannot make it more clear, and Molly has chosen to accept her place in my circle of friends. She knows how rare it is to receive my trust and companionship, she also realized how futile it would be to expect more. What would you have me do? Removing her from my life would only cause her more pain."

"I am glad you asked. I told you earlier that I have remarried since my late husbands passing. The man I have married has a very high position in the government, and as such he has elected to help me in obtaining certain benefits for my Molly."

The small group glanced at each other before Greg moved to stand next to Sherlock, "Pardon?"

"In two weeks times Molly will receive a letter from a very respected university. The letter will be offering her a position as a teacher in the pathology and sciences department. The money offered will be twice as much as she makes now as well as include free housing near the campus and the freedom to work on her own experiments and papers with grant money the university has saved up for the department. She will have everything she has ever wanted and will be able to skip over several more years worth of work she would have had to do to get this position."

"Right, but how do we come in?" Mary asked as she looked at the woman with suspicious eyes.

"I want you, all of you, to encourage her to take the position and leave London and Bart's behind. Tell her that you support her and make sure she takes this more than generous offer. Then, I never want any of you to contact her again. Especially you Mr. Holmes. Surely Bart's can supply you with another pathologist. And you won't have to worry anymore about my daughters simpering love for you. She will be more then happy and she will also be able to move on from you and find a man who will be able to give her everything she needs."

Silence filled the room then, all eyes resting on this cold well dressed woman who seemed so cruel in comparison to the young woman they knew from Barts. "You must be joking." Greg said as he crossed his arms over his chest and his brow furrowed, disbelief filled his voice as he spoke and Sherlock cocked his head slightly towards him, his eyes studying his gray haired friend before jumping back to the ice queen before him.

The messy haired detective was about to speak when a small gasp was heard and all heads turned to the doorway, "M-mother?" Molly stood in stunned shock, her hand still gripping the doorknob, her knuckles white.

"DARLING!" Mrs. Hooper said with a smile as she stood and circled around to her daughter. She embraced her very quickly and then pulled away before leaning in to kiss both sides of her daughter's cheeks.

"M-mother w-what are you d-doing here?" Everyone could feel Molly's discomfort, and her face shown a sickly white.

"Don't stutter dear, you sound like a broken record."

Suddenly her face erupted from sickly white to a ruby red and she looked down at her feet before she took a deep breath and tried to speak to her mother again, "Yes, I- I mean no, what are you doing here?" Molly's eyes flew to Sherlock who simply stared back at her, his hands cupped together before his mouth, eyes intense and filled with something close to anger. Molly had never seen that emotion before within his eyes and she wasn't sure how she felt about it being directed at her.

"I just wanted to stop in and see your friends! You talk so highly about them,I thought it was time for me to come and meet them!"

"I, yes- That's nice. Thank you. Where have you been, I haven't seen you in months-"

"Oh, you know dear, here and there. You step-father's job keeps us so busy. Government and politics are a rich man's life."

"My birthday was last month, you said you'd come down-"

"Oh! It's your birthday! Happy birthday darling! I'll make sure to send you a gift. I'm going to France next week. Your friends are lovely darling, just lovely."

Molly took a deep breath and tried again keeping her smiled plastered to her face, "Yes. We are going to go to a new exhibit at the science museum in London, would you like to join us?"

"Oh, how quaint. But I can't darling, I just can't, actually I must be off! Your step-father is waiting and you know it won't do to keep him waiting. So very busy. Now, do call me next time you're near by. I do so love your visits."

"But, you've just come, I haven't seen you-"

"I love you darling! Have fun tonight! Happy birthday again!" And then she was gone.

Molly stood there looking at the floor, her breathing heavy before she realized all eyes were on her, "I need-" another deep breath and her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, "I need-, if you could excuse me a moment. Mother!" Molly turned and took off down the hall.

Instantly everyone was on there feet peering out the windows and down onto Baker street. Molly had just emerged as her mother shut the door to her town car and it pulled away from the sidewalk.

"Should we go down there?" John asked looking to Mary who just shook her head in an unsure movement, "Molly's tough, I am sure she will be fine, right Sherlock?" Greg looked to the thin man who was currently putting on his coat, "Sherlock?" John asked.

"I don't know." The man murmured before he headed out of the flat and down to the street. The three remaining looked to each other before they shoved themselves tighter against the windows and looked down to see Sherlock appear behind Molly. He tentatively put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped and turned to see him there. The trio could not hear the words spoken but in an instant Sherlock carefully opened his arms and Molly fell into them, her face covered by Sherlock's belstaff.

"I knew it." Mary murmured.

"Knew what?" John asked not tearing his eyes from the strange scene before him.

"Earlier, when I was talking to Sherlock-"

"Yes, what was that about?" John asked suddenly more curious to know about the truth behind the awkward moment then why Sherlock was suddenly so able to comfort a crying woman.

"I took his pulse, watched his pupils and looked for all his tells."

"And?" John asked.

"And I think our boy is suffering from a chemical defect."

John's eyes narrowed, his mouth parting slightly as he looked back down onto the street. Sherlock still holding her, gently rocking her back and forth and rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"No-"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?" Greg asked as he continued to scope the two on the pavement below.

Mary sighed and moved away from the window to sit down, "It means, that very soon, Sherlock is going to be climbing the walls for a very different reason."

John thought about it a moment and then swore before he dropped like lead into his chair and let his head fall back in utter defeat, "Good god no, I don't have the strength-"

"Not alone, but between the three of us, I think we can make this transition as painless as possible, for everyone involved." Mary said.

"What are we going to do?" Greg asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I need more data."

"You sound just like _him_." John said rubbing his eyes with his fingers as he sagged further into his chair.

"No matter what, we don't breath a word of this to anyone. Especially you Mr. DI of the yard. To many people would cause trouble and this is the last thing we want the media to get their hands on."

"Get their hands on what? It's no secret that Molly has a thing for Sherlock. That's hardly news."

"Yes, well John's blog would happen to differ."

"What? My blog?" John said sounding offended.

"You describe him as a cold and calculating robot who is most likely asexual and has no desires for sentiment and love whatsoever."

"So if word got out that he might have a thing for Molls-" Greg started before he rubbed his hand down his face and swore.

"The media would have a field day, not to mention probably hound poor Molly, Sherlock and anyone who is even remotely connected to him."

"Jesus." John whispered out.

"Look, we need more data. If you two will just keep an eye on those two whenever they interact. Look for anything subtle or not and tell me everything. It won't take to figure this out, even if Mr. stubborn won't openly and consciously admit it to himself, his subconscious will and it will do all the work for us."

"You really are evil aren't you?" John asked eyeing his wife wearily.

"You married me knowing full well my powers of influence, don't back down now darling."

"Alright, John and I will keep an eye on those two, see if there is anything we can pick up on to either confirm or deny your claim. Then we will go from there, though I don't know where we would go either way."

"If I'm wrong it won't matter, everything can go back to normal and poor Molly can continue to try and move on. If I am right, we are about to have a hell of a fight on our hands in regards to convincing Sherlock of his own feelings, and we only have two weeks."

"Two weeks? You're joking, why is everyone pulling my leg today."

"I'm not, in two weeks Molly's mother is going to have that letter sent to her daughter. If we can't get this straightened out by then-"

"You think she will go?" John asked setting up and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I think Molly is so desperate to stop loving Sherlock she will try anything. She may have dismissed leaving with Tom, but leaving on her own for an opportunity like this maybe the pressure she needs. And if Sherlock DOES have feelings for her, he won't take her leaving well."

"When do we start?" Greg asked.

"Right now."

Just then Sherlock and Molly re-entered the flat, Molly's face red and splotchy but a smile lingering none the less. Sherlock stood next to her scanning the room and then he humphed before he moved away from Molly, the petite woman watching him go with such longing everyone save Sherlock internally winced.

"Are we going then?" Sherlock asked as he stood in the room looking at each face carefully.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Let's go, or the museum will close before we get there." John chirped as he stood and made his way over to help Mary stand.

All got ready and then they followed Sherlock and Molly out, all three noticing Sherlock gently place his hand on the small of Molly's back as he led her out.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Alright, chapter 3ish, read carefully, for all you true hardcore Sherlockians out there this will be fun. Can anyone name the name of the original story from Sir Aurthor Conan Doyle that I have threaded through here? Chapter 4 is posted if you can guess without cheating! Thank you for the reviews!

Molly's Abduction

Molly went missing on a Monday, almost a week to the day when her mother had shown up at Baker street. Since then, the trio consisting of Mary, John and Greg had kept an eye on both Molly and Sherlock in hopes of noticing anything out of the ordinary. Greg and John watching them interact in the lab, as well as at Baker street if either happened to be around for the rare cases of Molly stopping by to drop off a body part or bring Sherlock equipment or results from the lab.

As far as either could see, which Mary continued to claim wasn't very much, neither acted any different towards each other then what had come to be expected. Mary had managed to get the often over-worked pathologist to meet her for lunch, at which point she had stealthily "borrowed" Molly's phone from her purse while the petite woman had gone to the restroom.

She scanned through text after text from Sherlock to Molly but found nothing even hinting at being more then strictly platonic.

The trio were both relieved and crest fallen, because on one hand they did not have to worry about having to deal with Sherlock while he dealt with his new found "feelings." On the other hand, this meant they were more then likely to loose their pathologist and friend in just over a weeks time.

The only clue to any sign from Sherlock of possible attachment or emotional feelings for Molly came in a random visit from John who arrived at Baker street to find Sherlock playing a rather mournful yet melodious tune. A far cry worse in emotional baggage than that which he had heard during the Scandal in Belgrave case.

When he had asked Sherlock about the song, the man seemed entirely surprised John was in the room. He had quickly covered the piece and mumbled something about getting dressed and moved to the bathroom where he promptly showered.

John had then crossed to the music stand and carefully pulled the folder that rested on the piece Sherlock had just been composing away to reveal nothing but the letter "M" written in a beautiful scrawl at the top.

Later that night he would report this to Mary who, though thrilled that the M might stand for Molly, argued the M could stand for Mother, Mycroft or even Mary.

Though John let off a sarcastic remark about what he might have to do to his best friend if in fact something so romanticized and lust filled could be written for his wife or Sherlock's own family members for that matter, he conceited that the Letter M proved to be ambiguous and that M could just be a place holder for a name Sherlock had yet to come up with.

So the trio struggled on and continued to look for any signs that they should try to keep Molly from leaving. Little did they know that Monday would give them all the evidence they needed.

Mike Stanford was the first to noticed Molly's absence as she did not show up for work. He tried her cell multiple times and left several messages before he called John in a tizzy asking if the blonde man had seen hide nor hair of Bart's best pathologist.

When John reported in the negative Mike request he ask Sherlock and Greg to see if they might know of Molly's whereabouts.

John asked Mary who had shrugged and said she had not heard from Molly all weekend. John then tried Greg and Sherlock. Both Greg and Sherlock replied in the negative, Sherlock proving to be able to retain his dick-headed nature even while one of their friends was suddenly missing.

He claimed that Monday came after the weekend and that Molly more then likely had spent a weekend out with some work friends and was currently on the wrong side of a bad morning, trying to shake some waste of time she had picked up at the bar the night prior.

He got a good hard smack from Mary, but John had to scrub his ears a moment as he thought he heard some bitterness in the man's voice. All continued to wonder until John received a call from Greg telling him to hurry to Molly's. The place was a mess, the door kicked in, traces of blood were smattered all over and Molly was still missing.

Within twenty minutes Sherlock, John and Mary were in Molly's flat. Everyone looked for signs of what could have happened, but as per usual it came down to Sherlock to spell it all out. After a thorough room to room scan Sherlock told the story.

"She was in bed, they came late, maybe three in the morning. Her phone was not on her, she had forgotten it in her purse. She tried to get to it, but they saw her. She struggled...hard. Very hard."

All noticed his stiff back grow stiffer, his hands clench and his brow furrow in anger. Ice blue eyes glared out from under his fringe, though they continued to scan.

Finally his eyes stopped on a pile of books that looked at if they had been shoved from the shelves.

"Oh! My Molly, clever girl! Brilliant good clever girl!" Sherlock cooed to himself as he knelt and gingerly moved books aside.

"What is it? Did she leave a clue to who her attackers were?" John asked stepping closer, Greg and Mary close behind.

"Molly knew that she wouldn't be able to fight them off, maybe she could out maneuver one, but not two or three. So she did the only thing she could, the only thing she knows how to do."

Sherlock had whipped an evidence bag from his pocket and very carefully put something inside. When he stood and turned Greg's eyes bulged, "What the hell-"

"She scalped him, just a knick really but our clever little pathologist just got us blood, skin and hair all in one clean, professional little stroke. Even your boys at the yard can't mess that up."

Greg gave a rather aggravated look before he begrudgingly took the evidence bag, "Use your least irritating investigators as I may need to call them and inform them to look for specific details."

"What details?"

"I don't know yet. Just have your men do their jobs and send a secondary sample to Mycroft. If your men prove their incompetency I assure you the British government will not. Mary, I need you to find Molly's laptop and cell phone. Do an in depth search of all her emails, texts, calls and web searches. See if our Molly hasn't been trying to hide something from us or if there are any signs of her attacker contacting her prior to the abduction."

"Right." Mary went to work, carefully wading through the destroyed space and digging about and quickly as her pregnancy would allow.

"And me? What am I doing?" John had asked.

"You and I are going back to Baker street."

"Oy! You need anything else in here before I call and report this an official crime scene?"

Sherlock went to reply in the negative before he stopped and strode off to Molly's bedroom returning seconds later and saying, "All yours, Lestrade."

Through it all and into the ride back to Baker street, Sherlock was calm collected and logical, aside from the stormy moment right before he found the piece of someone's scalp he showed no signs of real concern. So John decided to push his friend a little to gauge his reaction.

"So, I take it your not worried? About Molly I mean."

"What? Of course not, why would I be worried?" The dark haired man continued to look out the window as John sighed and tried again, "Because Molly is your friend, a damn good one too I wager. More then you care to admit and, knowing you through a man out the window for laying a hand to your landlady, I would think you'd rampage someone for taking your pathologist."

"Uh! John, we've been through this a thousand times! Will worrying HELP me find Molly or the men who took her? Will allowing my ager to control my rationality free her and bring her back?"

"No, of course not." John said in whisper.

"Then I WILL NOT waste my time when I could be more useful to Molly remaining clear headed and empty hearted."

Silence followed, thick as soup, before John couldn't take it and groaned out, "But it's Molly!"

Another protest from Sherlock came as a guttural moan that filled the cab and he looked to John and sighed, "Molly is fine, I do not need to worry about her."

"Oh really? How can you be so sure Mr. brilliant detective?"

"Because I know who took her."

That left John in a stunned silence, until finally he cleared his throat, shook his head and said in a rather bothered voice, "What?"

Sherlock heaved a huge sigh, "I will never escape the common mind, so stagnant and placid-"

"Yes, I am an idiot, now shut up and spill." John snapped.

"A little less then a week ago Molly's mother showed up at my door, stating that I am a thorn in her side and the bane of her daughters existence. After a lengthy and highly unnecessary conversation that was dreadfully dull, Mrs. Hooper explains she plans to send Molly a letter that will allow Molly to escape me and my evil clutches for all times. Now, one week before that letter is supposed to show up Molly goes missing, with no case on hand, I might add, and so far no sign of anyone attempting to contact Molly prior to this. Clearly this isn't a case of revenge, jealousy or unrequited love... it's simply incentive."

"So, Molly's mother kidnapped her own daughter to try and convince Molly that she should get away from you."

"No doubt the paid kidnappers will speak as if they are seeking revenge on me for some case I cracked that landed them in jail. Molly is then thoroughly scared off from me, and the letter is her golden ticket."

"But how-"

"Mrs. Hooper said multiple times that her husband was high up in the government and was wealthy. You don't think she could have her own daughter black bagged by some unknowing government agent just doing what he is told?"

"So why didn't you tell Lestrade? Why make Mary search?"

"I want proof that confirms my theory. Once I have that confirmation I will tell Lestrade everything. Mrs. Hooper was very sloppy for such a well kept woman. She hardly knows her daughter at all. Molly once told me about the infamous Hooper temper. I've seen it only once, so I am sure the man she scalped is currently considering himself lucky."

The conversation remained upbeat and self assured the rest of the way back to Baker street, Sherlock never once doubting his own deductions.

Things changed, however, once they left the cab. On the steps of 221 B rested an envelope, underneath it a computer disk.

John kept walking as Sherlock stopped abruptly and bent to pick up both items. He glanced to Sherlock's stone still stance and then rolled his eyes before he ripped open the envelope.

It was an invitation to Molly's wedding, the one she had never had.

 _'You are cordially invited to the wedding of Molly Elizabeth Hooper and Thomas Eugene Curuthers to be held at-'_

The date, time and location had been burned off, leaving brown flaking pieces to chip off from the once pristine edge.

"Sherlock, what does this mean?" As John turned to hand Sherlock the envelope the man was already upon him snatching the disk case away and rushing into his building, a confused John trailing behind.

"I don't understand, Molly's mother, why would see-" stopping mid sentence to look over his now crazed companion Sherlock all but shoved the disk into his computer and frantically pulled up the play screen.

John, eyes suddenly looking very aware at Sherlock's almost 360 degree state of agitation came to stand behind his friend and look over his shoulder.

The video started to play, the image being jerky and unclear as the person set up the camera. When the lens finally settled it came to rest on the image of a tide up Molly in a wedding dress. Her arms bound to the chair she was on her head lulled from side to side.

Sherlock knew that motion, she was drugged.

"Bum bum bumbum, bum bum bumbum." came the wedding dirge sung by a deep and monotone voice, "Smile Moll's."

The image continued to play for a few more seconds with the irritating monotone finishing the wedding march before the camera was switched off.

"O-kay, what is this about Sherlock? Why would Molly's mother-"

"I was wrong."

The low baritone had come in a hushed whisper as Sherlock stared at the currently empty screen, "I- pardon?" John asked leaning in to hear better.

"I was- I was wrong." In an instant John realized Sherlock sounded sick and he swore under his breath,

"Jesus, I'm calling Greg and Mary."

From that moment on all hell broke loose, Sherlock a pacing mess, unable to truly focus and stay on task as he started to verbally lash out at anyone who tried to calm him down, "WHERE IS SHE!" Sherlock would scream as they waited for Greg to get the call from his team at the yard, Sherlock even called Mycroft and nearly verbally castrated his brother for taking so much time. Sally had called to confirm that Tom, Molly's ex-fiance, was not at his home, neither his family nor Molly's mother had any clue as to where either could be.

Finally, when Mary thought she may need to sedate the detective, lest he go and ransack Tom's home, a noise came from the stairwell and a rather pale and shaking Tom stumbled into the room. Before Greg could even pull his gun and cuffs Sherlock had him pinned to the door and raised a foot off the ground, "Where. Is. My. Pathologist!"

"Sh-Sherlock, Please! I need- it's Molly! She's been taken!" he managed to rasp out between squeezes from Sherlock's thick, gloved hands.

Instantly the detective dropped the younger man and looked down on him with distaste, "What have you done meat dagger?"

The next twenty minutes found them all listening to Tom as he spewed his guts and told them a story.

"I met Molly through friends. But the truth of the mater was I had been trying to meet her for months. I w-worked for her uncle, Peter at his law firm. I'd never seen her around the offices but he talked very highly of her. Through a series of lucky events I ended up becoming one of Peter's trusted associates. One night he had me and a friend of mine, a man named Sam Woodley, stay late a few hours to finish up some important paperwork he wanted done before the next week. Sam happened to notice the documents we were finalizing were about Molly. How, that when she got married, she would get a special combined sum from her late father, her mother and step-father and her uncle. It was very...big.

Well, Sam and I got to talking about the money and how awesome it would be to get a wedding gift like that... three months later I met Molly, it was just after you-"

"I am going to go out on a limb and say it wasn't a coincidence you happened to dress similar to Sherlock?" Mary asked with an irritated tone.

"There are a lot of people who are obsessed with John's blog, as well as Sherlock. It wasn't hard to search through the forums and web groups. A lot of people have theories... some have favorite pairings... who they think should be together, it's turned into an internet phenomenon. Some of the most popular pairs are John and Sherlock, Sherlock and Moriarty and of course-"

"Me and Molly."

Tom nodded and then continued, "I've never done anything like this before, but Sam, I've known him since we were kids. He was always looking for an angle, he grew up rough. That's why I got him a job at the firm. I thought it might help him straighten out. I'm sure you know where this is going-"

"Of course." Came Sherlock's monotone reply, "What I don't know is how you chose which one of you would be the lucky fellow to pursue Miss. Hooper."

Tom looked down at his feet, an awful shame filling his face and his voice cracking upon reply, "We played cards for her."

"Jesus." came John's reply while both Mary and Greg looked at the young man with such distain that it could be felt among all those in the room.

"Sam won, though I suspect he cheated. It didn't matter though, she wanted nothing to do with him. Simply wasn't interested in an uneducated tosser type. That's when I came up with the idea of dressing the part. She really took a shine to me then, I am glad. I can't imagine how Sam might had taken advantage of the situation if Molly had returned his advances."

"And you didn't?" Sherlock barked looking upon Tom as if he were nothing but mud on his shoes, "I had the misfortune of hearing all about your non-advantage taking. You and Molly did have a physical relationship, don't bother to deny it."

"By the time we were physically intimate I was in over my head. I fell for Molly, I didn't care about the money anymore. I told Sam I wanted to call it all off. I wouldn't marry her for the money and I wasn't going to try and take it away from her. I told him to leave it and threatened that if he should try to continue this stupid thing I'd call the police. Sam got real mad but he seemed to let it go. A week after I told him I loved Molly and was going to marry her in earnest he quit showing up at work. Got dismissed and I hadn't heard from him since. Until this afternoon when he sent me this."

Tom handed his phone to Sherlock who read the text on the screen, " _Got your lady, it's time to retire to Fuji, meet me at our spot and be my witness. I have a surprise for you too mate."_

"Your spot?" Mary asked urging Tom to continue.

"My father owns an old property just outside of London. He uses it for trapping, hunting and having get togethers with his friends. On the west side of the property there is a clearing in the forest that has an old pavilion. That's where Sam and I went to discuss matters pertaining to Molly. I also planned to marry her there."

"So we know what's going on and who has Molly, we also know your an utter cock and are probably going to spend a few months in jail-"

"At least." Greg confirmed as Sherlock glanced to him, "The last remaining piece of the puzzle is the most important, who in God's name would be stupid enough to preform such an illegal union. Any wedding held under force is not valid, even if it was you couldn't force Molly to give you the sum she received as a gift. "

"Sam knows people, nasty people. He told me that should the worst case scenario happen, and Molly refuse both of us, he had an old preacher friend, excommunicated for his heavy alcohol problem and pocketing church funds. Sam claimed the man would do it if we gave him a cut of the money... after that it was just getting Molly to sign the paperwork."

"yes, but we all know Molly would never do that." John said.

Once again Tom looked ashamed before he cleared his throat, "She would for him." he motioned to Sherlock, "Sam figured if he drugged her up enough, wore the right outfit, she might not be aware enough know the difference, she'd willingly marry and sign trusting Sherlock not to do her wrong."

"Oh my god!" Mary said covering her mouth.

"We have to go, now!" Sherlock said, he grabbed Tom by the back of the neck and shoved him down the stairs with the other three following.

After that it was a clear cut case, get to the property that was owned by Tom's father, race to the pavilion and then get Molly out of there before she willingly signed anything.

It took forty-five minutes to reach their destination, another ten to do a quick search of the old house and then race to the pavilion.

They found three men and Molly standing in the empty space of trees, the pavilion only a few feet away. One man dressed in a rather disgusting old priest robe, another looked like he'd just got out of the penn and Sam,who was dressed to the hilt like Sherlock, curly brown haired wig included.

The petite woman, still heavily drugged, leaned into him for support as Sam called for everyone to back up and for John and Lestrade to drop their guns.

Molly seemed confused and murmured Sherlock's name, "What ya doin'. They's our firneds Sherstock. They come to see us marry."

Sam cooed to her to be quiet, muttering strange curses against the intruding group as he tried to feed into Molly's drugged induced illusion.

It took another two minutes of Sherlock trying to talk Sam down and distract him before Tom made a decision and dropped to the ground, rolled to the gun and shot straight for his old friend. His aim was true and got Sam right in the shoulder, missing Molly's wobbling lulling head by inches.

As Sam dropped Sherlock snatched Molly away and pulled her close.

"I told you what I'd do if you molested her Sam! I told you!" Tom screamed as he prepared to fire another shot, Greg was quicker though and managed to wrestle Tom to the ground.

The other two men having scattered into the woods, no one bothered to try to track them down at that moment. It would be an hour before the rest of Lestrade's men came round to help search anyway.

John got to work on trying to stop Sam's wound from bleeding out and Mary helped Greg subdue the now hysteric Tom, via a very calming motherly voice and kind words about his heroic efforts.

Meanwhile, no one paid much attention to Sherlock as he scooped Molly up and started walking towards the car. She murmured his name over and over the whole way, and once there he laid her upon the back seat, minding her now soiled dress and climbed into the front.

A murmured I love you from Molly was the last he heard from her before he put the car in drive and floored the gas, heading to the nearest hospital.

Several hours later Molly was resting in a hospital bed being fed fluids through an IV in an attempt to help flush the drugs from her body. She slept deep and did not move nor make a sound.

Lestrade had called to inform him that Sam would live and both he and Tom had been taken in to custody for questioning. Depending on how things went and Molly's eventual testimony Tom may get off with less then they all would like.

Sherlock spend the rest of the day and well into the evening helping Lestrade's men track down the other two men and eventually found them trying to fly out of the country at Heathrow.

No one ever said villains were intelligent.

After that Sherlock helped Greg with the questioning. Tom repeated his story word for word claiming innocents in the kidnapping and subsequent illegal union. Sam, though shot, still retained his stubborn will and it wasn't until he was left alone with Sherlock for all of five minutes that he came clean very quickly.

The priest, a Rutherford Williamson and ex-con, Terry Bowls caved instantly saying they only played a part because Woodsley had threatened to blackmail them, though Sam claimed there was no blackmail and that he had offered a very large cut should they help.

Both the Yard and Mycroft confirmed that the scalp piece had been cut from Sam who had hid the injury with his Sherlockian wig.

Around ten o'clock Mary walked through the station with a shaky and pale Molly on her arm. She had insisted Mary help her escape the hospital so that she may come and give her testimony as soon as possible, less her memory fade.

That is when John, Mary and Greg got their first real lead in the case of Sherlock and Molly.

Greg and the man in question were in the process of leaving the questioning room, talking in hushed tones about the conversation they had just had with Mr. Bowls when his eyes caught Molly entering the main area of the yard.

Seconds later she saw him and their eyes met. Leaving Greg in the dust Sherlock strode to Molly who only made it a few steps before he had her in his arms. They embraced for a long moment, Molly letting out a little sob of joy.

The entire station fell quiet, none of the people on the force ever having seen such a display of affection from the cold hearted sociopathic madman Lestrade refused to get rid of.

As Sherlock pulled away he kissed Molly lightly on the forehead and then instantly removed his coat, wrapping it about Molly before he helped her to walk to the interrogation room.

"No shit." Greg murmured as John and Mary came to stand next to him, other people still watching in shock after the very strange behavior they had just seen.

Mary sighed and wrapped her arms over both John and Greg's shoulders, "Whelp, we've got our answer. So the question is, where do we go from here?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: So I never mentioned this in the previous chapters but all of these short excerpts are actually individual stories I have had saved up in my own mind palace. All were supposed to be one-shot Sherlolly fics that I have now adapted and re-worked to lay in a chronological order. Somehow, they are actually all coming together to make this short romance. I've never updated this quickly before but who knew that one post could turn into this collection of drabbles and one-shots sewn together like a quilt. Thank you for the encouragement and wonderful reviews. Also, I know I promised this posted as soon as someone guess the Solitary Cyclist but I am at an RV park currently, so the internet is touch and go. Please enjoy this next chapter.**

Molly's Letter

Silence filled the florescent space, white walls repelling the light in such a way it could blind those who weren't careful about where they looked. Silver slabs were spread across the room and the smell of sterility and chemical preservatives spun through the air curling below nostrils and causing many who visited the lab to crinkle their noses as they were not accustomed to the melodious odors.

In the middle of this white space of purity and peace stood a small woman who was currently holding a letter in her shaking hands. She read through it again and let out a puff of air from between her lips.

"I don't- how can this-"

"Don't act so surprised Molly. You are a very gifted pathologist, I am more surprised that this hasn't happened sooner. I knew someone would try to pick you up. Only a matter of time. Specially since you help Sherlock so much."

"Mike, you're sure this isn't-"

"It's legitimate. All you have to do is call and confirm your acceptance by Friday."

"I just- leave Bart's? London is my home, all my friends are here, this place is so far away and I don't know about-"

"Molly, take a day, maybe take two or three. Do some serious thinking about it and let me know your answer when you are ready. You have time to decide." Mike, having placed his hand on the shaking woman's shoulder, gave a reassuring smile and then turned to go.

"I mean it about those days off, go home early and don't bother coming in tomorrow or the next day. This is a big decision."

"Thank you." She said softly as she scanned over the letter again and then looked to the ceiling, her eyes wincing at the bright lights.

 _How the hell? I don't understand, why would they choose me?_

Once more to the letter she looked before her hands dropped to her side and she breathed out an airy and confused, "okay."

Three hours later, after a tube ride and a hot shower, Molly was sitting at her kitchen table staring daggers at the letter that rested before her. Somewhere between the tube ride and getting out of her shower she had made a startling connection., Mike's words echoing in her mind, ' _Specially since you help Sherlock so much-'_

She opened her mouth and read in a sarcastic and heated voice, "Dear Miss. Hooper, you have been selected as the perfect candidate for an open position we have at our newest facilities for the University of-"

She trailed off and her eyes saw red, how dare he. How dare that smarmy, egotistical, callous, dick headed prick do something like this!

The famous Hooper temper flared and before she could talk herself out of it she grabbed the letter off the table, took up her purse and headed out the door slamming it behind her.

Twenty minutes later she found herself outside 221 B, but her anger had not deflated. She pressed the door open and stormed up the stairs, ignoring the very confused Mrs. Hudson who had been dusting in the hall.

"Sherlock Holmes! You'd better be up here!" She yelled once she reached the landing. Upon reaching the top she saw the main door cracked and hastily kicked it open. She marched in to find Sherlock standing at the window with his violin in hand, his body half turned to look at her, eyes wide.

John was in his favored arm chair having been looking at a section of news before his eyes had bulged and he had looked up at her. Mary was frozen halfway between the kitchen and the living room coffee table, a tray laden with the makings for tea held loosely in her hands.

"John, Mary, please forgive the interruption, feel free to go about your business, but you! You, you utter cock! You cruel, evil, manipulative arsehole! What is the meaning of this!"

Molly held up the letter and shook it in the air, "If you think this puerile attempt at making me leave is going to work you are definitely not as intelligent as I thought." She crossed to him and shoved the letter into his chest letting it drop as she spun away. She headed for the door but spun at the last minute before she crossed the threshold, "You know Sherlock, I may not be an ex-soldier like John, or as resourceful as Mary or as clever as you but I am certainly not a burden! Not to you or anyone else! I don't ask for these dicks to find me, they just do! I don't asked for anything from you either. So if you think I am going to let you move me halfway cross the country just so you won't have to deal with watching out for me you've got another thing coming! Tell your brother Myke, or whomever you called in the favor to they can shove it! Molly Hooper can take care of herself, she doesn't need the all mighty Sherlock Holmes looking after her. You don't owe me anything Sherlock, nor do I need you to treat me as a piece of garbage you can just toss when you can't handle the responsibility of the friendship you created! Good day! John, Mary."

And with that Molly was out the door again, she didn't look back though she did have to control the urge to give Sherlock a rather rude gesture as she descended down the stairs. Her anger carried her all the way back home until she sat down with a huff on her couch.

In those moments of pensive silence her anger slowly started to fade and a wash of anguish shot from her lower abdomen into her chest and hovered like a storm over her heart. Before she knew it she was sobbing and she became aware that this was going to be one of those nights, the nights that involved a bottle of wine, a gallon of ice cream and many many episodes of Glee.

It was inevitable, so Molly decided she better get ready now. She checked her kitchen for the needed ingredients for a night long binge of self pity. She still had some double chocolate fudge ice cream left but she knew she would have to run out later if she didn't pace herself, good news was she still had half a bottle of Merlot and some cooking Sheri. Not the best option but it would work in a pinch.

She didn't want to go back out so continued to dig until she found, in the far back of her cabinets, her emergency bag of chocolate. A box of twenty-five chocolate bars was wrapped in plastic. She pulled it free and gave a small smile. "One must always be prepared when they are friends with Sherlock Holmes."

At the mention of his name her smile faltered and she felt the tears re-emerge. "You are such a dick. Such a total complete cruel, evil-" sighing she grabbed the wine, sheri, ice cream and her box of chocolate and padded over to her couch where she laid it all out before her.

"It'll have to do." she suddenly heard a vibration from her purse and crossed to it, upon inspection she had three texts from Mary, two from John, one from Greg- "you weren't even there-" and ten from Sherlock.

Not in the mood to pour out her feelings into cyber space, nor looking forward to dealing with Sherlock's criticism, lies or manipulation she turned her phone on silent and tossed it back into her purse.

Once that was done Molly padded up to her bedroom and put on her least attractive but most comfortable sleep wear and let her hair down. She removed the small amount of make-up she had and then grabbed up Toby from the bed, "You know, when I was abducted, you hid under the bed. I really shouldn't give you this, but I suppose as you are the only man in my life that hasn't been chased away, killed or verbally waylaid by Sherlock, you get to indulge with me as a reward."

In the kitchen she poured him a small bowl of heavy cream with just a little bit of honey mixed in, and then filled his favorite tinkle ball with cat nip.

"I don't expect too see you on your feet anytime soon, enjoy yourself."

Finally, she popped in a random Glee dvd and settled down on the couch with much to many blankets and two pillows.

"Alright, let's do this."

Forty minutes of blessed calm and chocolaty indulgence had taken her mind far away from her current problem of a dismissive Sherlock Holmes and the job opportunity of a lifetime which was tainted by his gall.

Molly had started in on her fifth chocolate bar, her second glass of wine and third scoop of ice cream when a knock on her flat's door pulled her from her Glee induced calm. She already knew who it was, either Mary or Greg, both being the two in the group capable of true comfort.

Debating on whether she should ignore it or not she opted for just answering the door and telling them she would talk to them tomorrow as tonight was her night. No interruptions allowed. She gave a soft smile to Toby who had finished off the cream and was currently on the floor in a mellow tizzy over the tinkle ball.

She took a deep breath, plastered on a smile and opened the door, ready to defend her choice to tell Sherlock off and binge eat alone the rest of the night. What she did not expect was to be greeted by the man of cruelty himself, arms filled with bags of what appeared to be take-away, more ice cream, a fresh bottle of wine and a cream colored file folder.

"Molly." he said by way of acknowledgment and greeting.

Though her face was blank her gut recoiled in anger and she went to slam the door, however, a leather clad foot stopped her, the force of her attempted slam causing a grunt from the detective.

"While I understand your anger I would like to remind you that I can pick your lock."

Molly gave a rude gawf and went to slam the door again, his foot be damned when Sherlock barked out in fear, "I can also jimmy your chain and deadbolt so there really is no point."

"Maybe you don't remember. I was abducted last week, new door, new locks and this is oak...solid oak, you may still be able to jimmy it but it will take you a whole lot longer and honestly I wouldn't mind the entertainment."

She went to slam the door again but Sherlock pressed forward and elbowed passed her into the kitchen.

Molly's anger boiled and she slammed the door behind him and watched as he laid his cargo out on the kitchen table.

"You have some nerve. I should call Greg and have your force ably removed you arrogant sod."

"Lestrade knows I am here, in fact he is the one that suggested the take-away."

Molly eyed the spread before her and realized that everything was her favorite, "Chinese orange chicken and pork fried rice with a veggie roll. Chocolate fudge peanut butter ice cream, and a rather expensive Merlot." Sherlock explained.

"Let me guess, Mary suggested the ice cream and John the wine?" Sherlock frowned.

"John suggested flowers, Mary suggested something- that was not edible."

With that Molly felt her hands fall limply to her sides and she stared at him in shock.

"My response as well. Now please, will you join me for dinner and let me explain your error in logic?"

Molly really didn't want to give him the chance to manipulate her, she didn't want to feed into his often flawless yet totally false flirtations and advances but just as Molly was about to deny him and send him away she realized what he had just said, "Excuse me? Error in logic? I don't see anything illogical about getting pissed when someone you thought was a friend tries to get you to move away."

"It's illogical because I didn't send you that letter. I called in no favors. I am not trying to get rid of you, and I have the proof right here, now sit down and eat."

Molly's insides twisted in anxiety but she sat down, what did he mean? If Sherlock hadn't sent that letter, hadn't called in any favors, wasn't trying to get rid of her, then who was? There was just no way that THAT university would offer her a position out of the blue with no interview or applications. She was still so young, she didn't have near enough of the requirements to get such a prestigious position...

"Ready?" Sherlock asked sliding a foam container towards her and placing a plastic fork on top.

"Please, just tell me." Molly said feeling like she was about to be twice as angry as well as embarrassed and guilt ridden.

Sherlock's eyes stayed locked onto her face as he slapped the file folder down on top of her Chinese.

Molly took up the folder and opened it, her eyes scanned through the information she guessed could only have been gotten from Mycroft.

"Your step-father may occupy a job in the British government as well as have considerable power, but my brother IS the British government, no one can hide anything from him."

Molly looked at the next page, the letter of request from her step-father, the promise of a substantial sum to be wired to the university in question upon Molly's acceptance of the position. And to Molly's horror, at the end of the multi-page report a signed contract by the university agreeing not to let a one Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and his wife or the DI Lestrade anywhere near their labs or campus.

"It's all fairly cloak and dagger, though they are rather presumptuous to think they could keep me off the premises, or Mary for that matter. I give John and Greg a fifty-fifty chance. I did have the thought of pushing you to go just so I could mess with them but I'd much rather have you closer to home-"

"Sherlock, would you excuse me a moment."

"Something wrong?" Molly could hear the levity in his voice, he knew what she was about to do and she could tell he was ecstatic.

"I am about to go talk to my mother, if you would like to leave you may. I realize my mistake and apologize and want you to know how humiliated and guilty and sorry I am."

"Once again you are in error, I believe the proper word is verbally assault your mother."

Molly had been on her way to retrieve her phone when she stopped and an unnaturally cruel smile came to her face.

"Sherlock-"

The man had already pulled out his phone and was rapidly texting someone, more then likely it was John or Mary or both.

Molly slowly turned to him and called again, "Sherlock."

"Mmm?" he replied without looking up.

"Do you remember how I helped you fake your death?"

This seemed to pull him from his composition and he looked up at her from beneath his dark curls, "Yes."

"And you know I've given you a lot of body parts, and helped you get unrestricted access to the lab, and I've ran loads of errands for you-"

"You want a favor, what is it?" he said matter-of -factly leaning forward with mild interest.

Molly's smile grew even more demonic as she approached him and leaned in from behind, she slowly started rubbing his shoulder and Sherlock gripped his phone tighter, "Well, for everything I've ever done for you, I finally know what I want in return."

"What is that?" Molly didn't seem to notice the husky tone that had come from his throat as he leaned into her kneading hands.

"I would like you to call my mother and tell her how I feel about this little joke she just pulled."

Sherlock's eyes opened and he turned to look over his shoulder at her, "Me? Why me?"

"You don't understand? I want YOU to tell HER what I think of what she's done, in the way only YOU can."

Sherlock thought a moment and then his eyes lit up, "Oh!"

"So will you? Tell her how I feel, tell her how you feel, tell her everything as _truthfully_ and _honest_ and _FRANK_ and you can be? Just like at the Christmas party, but ten times more honest."

"Molly Hooper, you are the most brilliant woman."

"Only because I have the most brilliant friends."

"I think you should get your mother on the phone."

Molly raced away leaving Sherlock smirking at the floor, upon her return she handed him her cell which was already dialing her mother's number.

Surprisingly the supposedly "always busy" woman answered and Sherlock took a rather large gulp of air to prepare for the tirade that was to come, "Hello Mrs. Hooper. This is Sherlock Holmes, Molly wanted me to give you a message-"

Three hours later found Molly laughing so hard she was crying as Sherlock took another swig from the bottle of wine he had brought and started yelling again at the tv.

"No! Why is Blaine kissing the wanker! Why isn't he kissing the feminine boy!"

"God you're drunk!"

Sherlock leaned back and took a deep breath, his head lulled back and forth on the couch, "So are you."

"Yes, but not as bad as you. Have you ever actually drank before?"

"Once, with John, it was awful. I try not to make a habit of it."

Molly took the wine bottle and allowed herself another swig.

"Why do you watch this shite telly. It's so pointless and sooo American." he humphed out as he shoved half a chocolate bar in his mouth.

"It makes me feel better when I have had a crap day."

"Dull, why not just shoot- here, gimmie-"

"What?" Molly asked wobbling a little in her seat.

"Gimme that, the, the bottle thing."

He swiped the wine away and took another gulp, "Why not just shoot something when your frustrated?"

"Normal people don't shoot things."

"Huh, well they should- no! Guh, Beckly is such a bitch." Sherlock fumed.

"It's Becky, and she can be if she wants too, she earns it for the crap she puts up with from Sue."

"Sue? Sue who?"

Molly was once again in a fit of laughter. This continued on for several more hours into the early morning before Molly found Sherlock had passed out. She moved aside that he may fall onto the couch and she covered him with a blanket , turned off the telly and hit the lights before heading up to bed.

She would wake up to find him gone. But she did not mind; she felt great! Hung over and exhausted, but great. Molly had had the most wonderful dream about cuddling up next to Sherlock and getting feather light kisses on her neck all night long. Perhaps she should watch Glee with Sherlock more often. In fact, Molly then elected to have a lay in and re-watch all the episodes of Glee she had watched with Sherlock the night before in hopes of having a similar dream.

Not realizing that Sherlock had actually woken up in bed next to her that morning, totally confused and horror stricken she lazed about and felt completely at piece with herself. Sherlock didn't need to be her lover, as long as he was her friend.

Later that evening she would discover his signature blue scarf stuffed up under her pillow, thinking it a kind gesture, she would plan to wear it to work and give it back to him with thanks and a bag of toes she'd been saving for him. However, it was not a kind gesture, but the act of a hung-over and bleary eyed detective who had not been able to use his brilliant powers of deduction to realize he had not taken it off that night and had slept walked into Molly's bed still wearing the scarf.

Upon realizing his mistake he would promptly come up with billions of sneaky ways to try and obtain the scarf before Molly notice it. This would eventually lead to a rather nasty spill into Molly's tub, while she was in it. Causing an uproar in the group of five and the opportunity for Molly to finally meet her greatest adversary.

A Miss. Irene Adler, who would both help and hinder the current situation in ways no one could predict.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

Molly's Bath

John walked into to 221 B Baker street with the implicit instructions not to leave until he got all the goods about what had happened last night. Mary, who was near close to popping, had said that she would not be moving around much anymore and needed him to be her informant. John had found something sexy about playing spy for Mary but did not let on as he scooted out of his house that morning determined to get the information his wife wanted.

He came to a stop at the landing as he heard the loud slamming, yells and anxiously disgruntled expletives coming from his former flat mate.

"Where is it! Confounded thing!"

John took a deep breath, calmed his inner self and mentally prepared for the onslaught that was about to come his way.

Pushing the door open he was greeted by the worst mess he had ever seen in the flat since the case with the hording German and the Russian circus performer.

"Uh, Sherlock?" John called softly as his eyes took in the chaos that had unleashed itself into the flat.

"WHERE IS IT!" He barked at John as if the man had been here this whole time.

"Where is what? Sherlock! What in God's name is going on here?"

Sherlock turned to him, his blue robe swirling out around him in a rather balletic fashion.

"John! I need to find it! Now! Help me find it!"

Moving into the room quickly as Sherlock stormed by and slammed the door in the process he rounded the room and came to stand where his crazed friend had just been.

"Find what? What have you lost and how can you, the world's only consulting detective not find it?"

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair before he jumped to the couch and started pulling off cushions and then upturned the coffee table.

"Alright, stop this, stop now-" John had moved to his friend and grabbed him by his shoulders, "Look at me, what have you lost and how can you not find it?"

Sherlock's icy eyes stared at him as if he was the stupidest man on the planet, though he seemed to think twice about voicing this opinion before he pulled free from John and stomped to his chair, he crawled into it and pulled his feet to his chest, "I know where it might be, but I refuse to accept that I could be as foolish as the common man on the street. By process of elimination, if it is not here, then there is only one place it could be, heaven help me should this be the outcome."

"Okay, so you lost something and you know where it most likely is, but you'd feel like an idiot for forgetting it so you refuse to retrace your steps and find it?"

Sherlock hesitated before he reluctantly nodded, "I've searched the flat, regrettably it is not here, there for it is as I feared and it is in the clutches of a person most fowl."

"Okay, first off, what is it you've lost?"

Sherlock smirked mildly for the first time since John had arrived, he had calmed considerably it seemed now that he had someone to talk to.

"Take a look round the flat, do you notice what's missing?"

"No, I'm not playing this game with you. Just tell me."

"Come now John, you've spent years watching me work, we can't improve if we don't practice. Have a look."

Sighing in defeat he glanced around the room. Amid the chaos he didn't notice anything at first. Eventually his eyes landed on the surprisingly untouched coat rack and there John noticed an absence of blue.

"Where's your scarf?" John asked absentmindedly as he continued to scan for the lost object that could set Sherlock off so readily.

"You've improved."

John stopped scanning and realized that the missing piece was in fact the blue scarf that Sherlock was rarely seen without.

"Wait, you've thrown this fit over a scarf? Sherlock, you've got like six of those things in the hall closet. Why are you throwing such a piss fit over a damn scarf that you've replaced on numerous occasions?"

"Think John." Barked Sherlock as he readjusted his position and leaned forward with interest to see if John could sort it on his own.

John took another deep breath and started to think, his frustration slowly sliding away as he focused on the facts.

"You've misplaced your scarf, which I know for a fact you can easily replace and have on numerous occasions. It doesn't necessarily hold sentimental value-"

"Good, keep going." Sherlock encouraged.

"But you're in an anxious fit over it, so there must be a reason why. If you could retrace your steps to recover it you would, but... something is stopping you."

"And?"

John was really trying to sort it out but he was missing something. Then, as he was about to ask Sherlock to explain a thought came to his mind, "You said that your scarf was in the clutches of a person most fowl..."

"Excellent, John. So what is your final deduction?"

"You realized, through this ridiculously un-necessary rampage through your flat that your scarf isn't here. You know where it is through process of elimination, but you don't want to go get it because whom ever has it now is someone you wish to avoid."

"Brilliant! You are coming along! Slower then I would like but that set of deductions only took three minutes. Much faster then your prior attempts."

"So who has your scarf then?" John asked choosing to pretend that that was a complement and not an insult.

"A dragon disguised as a mouse." he murmured softly as he glanced towards the window from his seated position.

John crossed to his chair, pushing papers and other various articles of junk out of the way as he sat, "What?" he asked as he looked to his friend in confusion.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked, his eyes snapping back to his friend.

"Huh? Oh! Um, Mary wanted to know how last night went with Molly."

"You could have just texted me."

"I did, and I called. When you didn't respond I figured I would swing by on my way to the store. Mary want's ice cream."

"The store you normally go to is three blocks from your house, why would you- ice cream... of course! The blasted wine!"

"Wine?"

"Nothing! Last night went well, Molly has apologized for her rather compulsive outburst and we are on speaking terms again. In fact, she was so grateful for my clarifying the situation she allowed me to speak with her mother on her behalf."

"Speak to- wait, she let you- what did you say?"

"Exactly what she told me to. I informed Mrs. Hooper that Molly had misunderstood her little helping hand gesture as that of a cruel joke and that Molly wanted me to tell her exactly what we thought of her."

"Molly let you...deduce... her mother?"

"Yes, it was quite an experience, being asked to be wholly myself and not having to play nice for the sake of common decency. It could be the best gift I've ever been given. And I don't think I've ever heard someone sound so utterly offended then Mrs. Hooper did last night."

"Good God, you two are quite a pair." John said looking down as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, I don't know, Molly has always seemed to accept me at both my best and worst. I am not as surprised about the outcome of last night as you may be."

John leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, "Right, speaking of last night and Molly. Mrs. Hudson told me you didn't come home last night."

Sherlock froze at this, his eyes glazed over and there was several minutes worth of silence before John started to try to get back the attention he had just lost.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, mate? Sherlock!"

The man finally seemed to come back to himself and looked at him, "Hmm?"

"You didn't come home last night? Mrs. Hudson told me on my way in."

"Yes, I stayed at Molly's."

John felt his insides flutter, this was the kind of juicy stuff Mary was looking for, as well as a possible sign of Sherlock's true feelings coming to the surface.

"You did?"

"Yes? So what? It's one of my many bolt-holes. I've stayed there loads of times. She was upset and had been about to open a bottle of cooking Sheri right before I came. I felt it best to keep an eye on her, I do believe she consumed over twelve chocolate bars and half a tub of ice cream. How such a small woman could pack away so much-"

"On her sofa?"

"Pardon? What?"

"You stayed on her sofa then?"

Once again Sherlock seemed to retreat into his mind palace, his expression glazing over twice as hard as his eyes jumped back and forth, focusing on nothing as his fingers slowly came up to press together and rest under his chin.

John gave a frustrated sigh as he leaned back into his chair and rolled his eyes, "A simple yes or no would have worked Sherlock."

It was another twenty minutes before Sherlock shot from his chair and ran to his room.

John had been in the process of making tea and a sandwich, which he has almost dropped at Sherlock's sudden outburst.

"Of course! The pillow!"

John leaned into the hall and watched as Sherlock got dressed hastily before racing back out into the living room and throwing on his coat and gloves.

"Hang on, where are you off to?"

"I've remembered what I forgot. I think I can safely retrieve my scarf with out the dragon mouse knowing anything of it."

"Dragon mouse... wait... Molly. You left your scarf at Molly's?"

"Of course, where else would I have left it?"

"Well, just have her drop it by on her way to work!" John called as Sherlock started to head out of the flat.

"NO! The dragon mouse cannot know I've been in her den!"

John looked puzzled a moment and then it clicked, "Her den? He's left his scarf in her... bedroom...shite! He's going to break in."

John left his tea and sandwich behind as he yanked out his phone and dialed Mary.

Sherlock was out the door and in a cab before John could catch him and was already in the process of coming up with a plan to enter her flat.

 _Front door will be locked, it will take to long to jimmy the new locks. Kitchen window is to small, spare room window has a busted lock and won't budge...bathroom window... big enough, always unlocked so she can air out the moister from her showers and baths, it is located IN the bedroom. Point of access found and confirmed. Have cab drop you off on the west side of her block._

Sherlock gave his modified directions to the cabby and with in twenty minutes was walking down the alley that rested below Molly's bathroom window. He carefully and quietly climbed the fire escape and found the correct point of entrance. The window was in fact open and he smirked at his cleverness. Molly, despite her hang-over should be at Bart's by now.

The room inside was dark, though in his hurry he did not notice the candle burning on the toilet seat cover. To his own credit, Sherlock always admitted that he often missed at least one thing during his deductions.

He pressed the window open the last few inches it would give and then turned sideways, he put one foot through the window and started to sink down until his foot touched the floor of the tub. The last thing he expected was to feel steaming hot water gush into his shoe or hear the gasp of the petite pathologist from below. His grip on the edge of the window failed him and he plunged into the abyss, hot water seeping into his clothes and his head submerging beneath, his face sliding across slick skin and bubbles caressing his neck and jaw.

He flung himself up quickly, gasping for air when a hard object was slapped across his face and he went spinning to the side, knees catching on the rim of the tub and causing him to face plant onto the cool tile floor.

"Who the hell are- Sherlock?"

"Hullo Molly..." he said through the crippling pain in his jaw and head, his cheek still plastered to the floor.

"Ohmygod! OHMYGOD! S-SHERLOCK HOLMES! What the HELL!"

Pushing himself up quickly he flipped over onto his bum to see a naked and glistening Molly barely managing to cover herself with a rather flimsy shower curtain that was clinging to her like cotton balls to fleece, a wooden back scrubber in her hand.

From one side of her head he could see an ear bud still in place, the other hanging down somewhere between her breasts and behind the shower curtain.

"Ah, that explains why you didn't hear me enter and stop this lunacy from occurring."

"Stop this lun- you caused this lunacy! What were you trying to do!"

"I was obviously house breaking. You are supposed to be at work."

"Mike gave me three days off yesterday in light of that letter from my mother."

"And you decided to take advantage of it instead of tell him the truth?"

Molly paused but then set her jaw, "And why not? I rarely get days off as it is! Not with you constantly coming about and doing favors for everyone else in that bloody place!"

Sherlock stood then and turned, grabbing the towel that hung on the back of the door. As he turned back towards Molly his eyes scanned her one more time from top to bottom before he tossed the towel to her and made to exit the bathroom.

Molly managed to catch it and quickly wrapped herself up before she followed him out, yanking the remaining earbud from her ear and tossing her music player on her bed. She saw Sherlock reaching around under her pillows and she suddenly realized why he had come.

"Sherlock-"

He froze in his pursuit and glanced at her. Molly's eyes scanned from his pillow covered hand to the back of her bedroom door, a blue scarf hanging there in a most inconspicuous manor.

"So, you broke into my flat to retrieve your scarf...you didn't leave it under my pillow as a gesture of kindness... you didn't want me to know it had been left there. But, you fell asleep on the couch... so how did your scarf get under my pillow if you didn't put it there?"

Sherlock tensed as Molly's eyes grew wide and he quickly extracted himself from her pillows and rounded the bed in pursuit of the scarf. But Molly was faster and she ripped the scarf from it's place on the door and held it behind her back.

Sherlock's eyes slowly turned to land on her, "Molly." he said in a tone of warning, he took a step towards her and she jumped back.

"Sometime between when you passed out on the couch and when you left in the morning you wondered in here, laid down on the bed next to me-"

"I was drunk, and your couch is less then comfortable for someone of my height. It seemed only logical to move to the bed so I could stretch out."

Molly had side stepped him and he had moved in pursuit, soon enough she had managed to get next to the door which she then opened and stepped out of, Sherlock following as she rambled.

"But you have NEVER shared the bed with me, and there is a spare room right down the hall. You could have gone in there, I got that bed for the times you need a place to go. Why didn't you go in there?"

"I just said I was drunk."

"That's a poor man's excuse."

Sherlock simply held out his hand, "My scarf if you will."

Molly's right hand clutched her towel tighter, and her left hand closefisted the soft blue fabric of the scarf with determination.

"I want to know why Sherlock, you owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you anything of the sort. If I wish to break into your flat to retrieve an item that I left there by accident then it is my business and none of your own. Now, my scarf, please."

Molly exhaled through her nose and felt her face heat up, "How dare you! You broke into MY flat Sherlock, not some random person's flat, MINE. You left your scarf in MY bed, which you crawled into and slept in, next to me..." Molly stopped then and her eyes looked to the ground, her brows furrowing as a gasp escaped her throat.

"I had a dream last night, a dream about you-"

Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he instantly recoiled from her, turning his body towards her front door and glancing at her with an air of disdain, "Control yourself Molly, what ever girlish fantasy came to you last night while you slept was in your dreams ONLY. I suggest you don't try to rub your factitious imaginings off on the rest of us who prefer to exist in the real world."

"I dreamed you held me last night-" She took a step to him, he backed up, a rather unusual change in their often strange dance of manipulation.

"Molly-" he warned again.

She did not stop though and soon enough he was pressed in the corner of two counter tops, looking down at her with dangerously fearful eyes, "And I dreamed you kissed my neck, right here." Molly reached up with the hand holding the scarf and traced her finger across the area of exposed skin on Sherlock's neck, his scarf obviously not there to protect it.

"Stop!" he barked as she leaned up on her tip toes, but Sherlock was only distracted by her descending lips a moment before he realized his luck and grabbed at the scarf.

Instantly Molly pulled back, the scarf still in her hand and before either could stop a game of tug of war started.

"Let. Go." Molly ordered.

"It's my scarf, you let go!"

"Not until you admit what happened."

"Nothing happened!" Sherlock bit out as he gave a mighty yank. He saw Molly's grip loosen and he prepared to give the final pull when Molly, forgetting about her current state of dress, grabbed the scarf with both hands and gave the mightiest yank she was capable of.

Sherlock was pulled forward, still sopping wet from the bath his traction was minimal and he skidded and slipped as he tried to catch himself. But Molly gave another yank and slipped as well on the puddles of water they had created.

Falling backwards while Sherlock fell forwards Molly had a good two seconds to see where this was going to end up. The table, which rested behind her, would be strong enough to catch her. It was old, but she did not weigh enough to break it. However, in the point three seconds that it would take for Sherlock's weight to propel him forward she would not be able to roll out of the way.

 _We're are going to break the table!_ Was all Molly's brain was able to throw out before she felt her back slam against the table and then Sherlock's heavier body smashed into her own, successfully breaking the table legs and splintering the center before the table, Molly and Sherlock lay in a heaping pile on the kitchen floor.

Both lay there breathing heavy, Molly the worse for ware having been sandwiched between the table and the force of Sherlock's fall.

"I. Blame. You." Molly wheezed out as Sherlock groaned, "Shut. Up." he managed as he tried to untangle his feet from the twisted and splintered legs of the table.

Suddenly a sound came from the hall and Molly's front door was quickly shoved open.

"It was unlocked?" Sherlock panted as he tried again to extract himself from the pile of rubbish around him.

"You...ugh... must have left it open when you ...ngh...left this m-morning." was Molly's terse reply as she attempted to help Sherlock up by pushing against his chest.

"Oh my." Both Molly and Sherlock looked to the open door to see a red faced Mary, a very confused John and a laughing Lestrade.

"Je-jesus." Lestrade chortled.

"Um, Molly you might want to...put on some clothes."John murmured suddenly looking away and towards his wife.

Molly instantly looked down at herself and realized her towel was wrapped about between her and Sherlock's legs. Sherlock seemed to realize he was also pressed against a naked Molly and both, in an instant gave a great push, Sherlock off the floor and broken table, Molly against his chest.

As Sherlock rose he ripped off his coat and thrust it over to Molly who instantly used it to cover herself. Once he was up he went to walk away but tripped again on the towel and table legs, which in turn knocked Molly and as Sherlock face planted the floor again Molly tumbled onto his back, his coat billowing out about them.

"Oh for GOD'S SAKE!" Sherlock said. He started kicking his feet frantically and finally managed to get free, scrambling away from the mess he came to stand next to Lestrade who had also been forcibly turned away from the scene by Mary but was still laughing his head off.

"Gawd, I wish I had a video of that!"

Molly's face lit up a ruby red and Mary punched Greg in the shoulder before nodding towards the poor girl in question.

"Oh! Right, Molly I didn't mean, I just meant seeing Sherlock in such a bad way-"

"Yes, GRHAM, I am sure that's all you meant by that comment." Sherlock huffed as he tried to straighten out his soaking wet cloths.

"Why you all wet?" Mary asked.

Before Sherlock could respond Molly stormed forward and pointed a finger at him, "He broke into my flat in order to retrieve his scarf, he just happened to break in through my bathroom window, WHILE I was taking a bath!"

"Jesus, Sherlock you idiot." John barked, he went to turn around but Mary stopped him.

Molly was still wearing Sherlock's coat and pulled it further shut, "It's alright, I am covered now."

The two men turned around, glancing into the kitchen, "What happened with the table then?" Greg asked a large smirk still on his lips.

"Guh! Pointless!" Sherlock protested before he moved to the rubble and started digging through before he pulled out his scarf.

"HA! Alright, John let's go!"

"Go? Go where?"

"To Baker street, where else. You're welcome too Mary. I imagine you want to get off your swollen feet."

"Wait a minute! Wait just a minute!" John shouted.

All froze, they knew a pissed off John when they heard it, and know one, including Sherlock, wanted to take a chance of being the object of his wrathful eye.

"You are not going anywhere until you apologize to Molly."

"What? Are you mad! That dragon mouse stole my scarf! And she accosted me in her kitchen!"

"What!" Mary cried, this time a doubtful laugh seeping through.

"I did NOT accost you! You accosted me! You snuck into my bedroom last night and cuddled ME, you kissed MY neck... I didn't do anything but tell you I was aware you did it!"

"It was a dream Molly! A delusional fantasy concocted by a chemical defect in your brain!"

"Then explain your scarf! If you didn't put it there, which I know you didn't because you house broke my flat to get it back before I would notice it was there, then why was it in my bed!"

"I was drunk! You fed me wine! You got me drunk to take advantage of me do to your feelings of pathetic unrequited love!"

Molly's teeth ground and she growled at him in her anger, "DRAGON MOUSE!" Sherlock screamed in warning before he lunged for the door, but Molly wouldn't have it and she snatched the scarf, which once again Sherlock refused to let go.

"GIVE! ME! THAT! SCARF!"

"CONFOUNDED WOMAN! UNHAND MY CLOTH!"

The three in the door did not know what to say or do, a naked Molly wearing Sherlock's coat was playing tug of war with Sherlock's scarf while the drenched detective pulled back like a petulant school boy.

"You are being unreasonable! A contemptuous vile little girl!"

"And you are being an illogical petty scared little boy!"

"Nu uh!"

"Yes huh!"

"ALRIGHT!" John yelled as he strode forward and yanked the scarf from both their hands.

"That is enough! Sherlock, go stand out in the hall! NOW!"

The man glanced to Molly and grunted before he walked out of the flat, a deflated trudge in his step.

"Molly, go to your room and get dressed!"

"I will not be ordered-"

"GO!" Molly jumped and instantly scurried away, "Bring his coat out when your done!"

John turned on his heel and went out to the hall not even looking to his wife or Greg, "Now Sherlock, you are going to apologize, take your coat and your bloody scarf and go back to Baker street where you are going to shower, change and GO. TO. BED! Am I clear?"

"Honestly John I already have a mother, if you'd just-"

"AM I CLEAR!?"

Sherlock seemed to jumped a little at this, but he settled back down and sighed before he simply nodded.

John took Sherlock by the arm and pulled him back into the flat, Molly was waiting wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants.

"Well?" John said.

Sherlock shivered and gritted his teeth, "Sorry."

Molly looked at him with narrowed eyes for a moment before her posture relaxed and she rubbed her hand down her face.

"I'm sorry too Sherlock. I can get your coat and scarf dry cleaned and have them brought to Baker street by tomorrow."

At her honest and sincere apology Sherlock seemed to relax and he reply softly, "No, it was my fault. Just give them to me and I will take care of it. I will also replace your table."

Molly hesitated before John nodded to her and she in turn nodded at Sherlock.

The tall brunette then turned to go, John following him out when he pocked his head back in and said, "Though I still won in the end-" he dangled the scarf over his head before John shoved him harshly forward and down the stairs.

Molly couldn't help but give a small giggle before she rolled her eyes and took a calming breath.

"You okay?" Greg asked as he watched Mary and John move down the last few steps and round the corner.

"Me? Yeah. He is just so infuriating sometimes and I just can't handle him pushing me around anymore. I just want to choke him every time he tries to manipulate me or the situation."

"Yeah, that's about it isn't it." Greg said before he noticed Molly had started to pick up the destroyed table.

"'Ere, let me help."

"Thanks."

They worked in silence for a few moments, gathering small chunks and large pieces before Greg decided to act on his own and move things forward, "You know he likes ya right?"

Molly looked up at Greg and smiled, "I'm sorry? Who?"

"Who ya think?"

"Sherlock? Of course he does, we're friends. I don't think he would put up with me if he didn't. What with my irrepressible crush, my klutziness and my inability to form a coherent sentence I am sure if he had the option of another pathologist he would take it, but I think-"

"No, Molly, listen. He likes you. I mean, really likes you."

"Yeah, right. Did you just see the domestic we just had. First time in my life I've ever really stood up to him and he couldn't get out of here fast enough, must think I am just as crazy as all the other woman."

"You just can't accept it can you."

"Greg, please don't-"

"Molly, the blooming sod loves ya. He just can't see it. We all know it, we've been noticing it."

"What?" Molly asked in a voice befitting a queen who had just found scandal in her house.

"Look, I'm not going to be the one to start this off. Maybe you should go talk to Mary. I'm just saying that I think his subconscious is trying to tell him something and I think his normal self is trying to keep it at bay."

By this point the ruined table was in a neat pile and Greg was sweeping while Molly leaned unsteadily against the counter.

"What- how do I- what am I-"

"Yeah, that's about how we all feel too. Just don't be so ready to sell yourself short. If you love him, and I mean all of him. Good and bad, in all his unstable, moody, dick headed glory, then give it some time."

"I've been doing this seven years Greg." her tone was flat and the sarcasm didn't escape him.

"Exactly, so what's a few years more?"

Molly stared at him a moment before she realized he was right, "I suppose you are right. What do I really have to lose. I mean, I've dated a psychopath, a semi-kidnapper and multiple other men who are no where near as crazy as Sherlock, though a tad bit more boring... I am dated out at the moment. I suppose I can do what I am best at and wait with baited breath for my never romance with Sherlock to never happen."

"That's the spirit!" Greg offered as he playfully punched her shoulder.

"Alright." Molly agreed.

"Now, how about you go finish that bath and hit the sack, lord knows what the prince of darkness has planned for us next."

Molly nodded before she gave him a quick hug and then shut the door behind him. She didn't notice the figure at her kitchen window, nor did she hear the small creak of it being shut.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I will be wrapping this story up soon as I am running out of drabbles and prompts to lace together. I am so happy people like this story. Expect maybe two more chapters after this and expect a lemon of some sort.**

 **Molly's Adversary**

"I. AM. TIRED." Molly said boldly to Mary who was sitting in a rather tight booth with her new baby girl Elizabeth Harriet Watson.

That's right, Mary Watson had finally had her baby, the woman having never look so re-leaved when she pulled out her pre-pregnancy clothes from a box and they miraculously fit.

Mary beamed up at Molly as she gently bounced her cooing daughter, "I doubt that, you only work with the dead darling. I have this little tit at home, I've given the definition of exhausted a whole new meaning."

Molly smiled across the table at the little one who was still snoozing, "She's seems peaceful to me."

"Yeah-" Mary answered with a scoff, "Cause she was up all night wailing her little pink face off, weren't you love, you were so annoying!" She said in a loving yet high pitch baby voice.

Molly chuckled before she leaned back into her booth and let out a sigh, "Took the liberty of getting you a glass of merlot."

"Oh, you blessed woman." Molly said as she realized there were in fact two glasses on the table, one wine and the other water.

"Breast feeding?" she asked as her head nodded to the condensation covered glass.

"Yup, pretty miffed I'm still off the fun juice, Lizzy doesn't like anything but home grown hormones and booby froth."

Molly nearly choked on her wine, her laughter having caught her throat at just the wrong time.

"Sorry-" Mary said with a worried brow and a hidden smile.

"S'alright." Molly managed.

"So, this whole Sherlock thing-"

"Bloody Christ! Greg's got you on it now too?" Molly said with another mouthful of wine nearly slushing out from behind her lips.

"Such blasphemy-" though her chiding was so sarcastic Molly couldn't help rolling her eyes, " I had the boy's on it _first_ you know _,_ then Greg went off half cocked after the bathtub incident and started spitting out overtures on Sherlock's behalf before we'd even built a solid foundation to prove his undying love to you."

Sighing Molly reached across the table and gently stroked one of Lizzie's curled fingers, "He doesn't-"

"Pish-posh, there are too many clues to support our findings that the man harbors feelings for you for us to dismiss it."

"So?" Molly replied softly as she continued to concentrate on the face of pure innocents bundled in Mary's arms.

"So?" Mary's face was filled with a cocky smile of disbelief, "You've been pinning after this man for seven years and now when we have proof he may return your feelings you want to just let it go?"

Molly finally sat back in her seat, her eyes darting from her lap to Mary and then back before she let out the most whimsical sigh Mary had ever heard, "If Sherlock wanted that type of relationship with me, he would have acted on it, you know how he is. If he want's something he finds a way to get it. Drugs, fags, faux girl friends, body parts- my own blind loyalty. You can't expect that if he truly wanted me he wouldn't have pursued it by now. Why not leave Sherlock alone? He has made a point that he is NOT interested in matters of the heart, sex or relationships so why force him into something he doesn't want?"

Mary stared at her a moment before she clicked her tongue and leaned forward, "Between you and me, John has told me some stories of the only woman that has ever seemed to matter to Sherlock. A Miss. Irene Adler. Not much was published on John's blog due to the discrete nature of the case, but I am inclined to believe that Sherlock had some kind of special connection to this woman, one that John and ol' Mikey boy were not aware of."

Molly remembered the very woman, Sherlock having recognized her from not-her-face, and Molly felt her heart sink at the thought, "Why is this important to anything I just said-"

"Because, Molly! It means that it is possible for Sherlock to fall in love, to want someone. John told me the woman was killed some time ago, Sherlock was rather put out by it all, sulked for weeks after."

"That doesn't help m-"

"I think it does, it proves you have a real blessed chance Mols."

The petite pathologist looked at Mary from under her brow, her eyes intense and hurting. Mary could see that Molly didn't want to hope anymore, it hurt her too much. But Mary was so certain that Molly had at least a semblance of a chance that she just couldn't let it go.

"Alright, so what's YOUR advice, cause Greg and John have already given me their two pence and it was awful and awkward-"

Mary laughed softly before wincing and glancing to Lizzie who remain undisturbed, "I would expect nothing less of those two clots."

Molly blushed not wanting to think of all the strange advice given, though John was even more hesitant at giving it then Molly was about receiving it.

"Look, all you need to do is be honest with him-"

"I've done that. What's the point of honesty he knows how I feel-"

"I am not talking about telling him love, I mean show him."

"Show- oh! Oh no! I couldn't, what if he pushed me away or got mad and deduced me or I went to kiss him and he dodged and it would ruin what he have-"

"Molly, breath. What I am suggesting is not something as innocent as a kiss-"

"You want me to mount him?"

Mary smiled, "No."

"Then I don't understand-"

"Admit your love to him, then jump him and hold him down and kiss him until he cannot resist."

Molly's mouth dropped open, "That's mounting him Mary-"

"No, mounting is what a male animal does to a female animal, I am suggesting you do something much more proper and human, jump him. Simply get in his face and make him understand how utterly in love you are, over ride his logic with passion. Make it so he can't resist you!"

"But that's not me! I am just Molly, not some steamy temptress, if I tried that nonsense I would trip over my feet and break his nose on accident or go to kiss him and poke his eye out."

Mary let out a frustrated growl and rolled her eyes, "Then what _is_ you Molly? What would you do if you knew you could get away with anything?"

Molly took a moment, she honestly thought about it and then sighed, "If I knew for a fact that he cared about me as more then a friend, that he WANTED to be with me, I'd walk right up to him, call him on his shite and tell him if he didn't come clean I would remove myself from his life. Permanently."

"That's a tad bit more risque then a simple snog and run."

"It'd make him act though, I know Sherlock enough to know he would decide within minutes of my proclamation."

"I s'pose." Mary agreed. They remained silent as the waiter suddenly appeared and delivered their salads and soups. Molly was happy to see Mary had guessed her favorite and ordered for her.

After a few moments of eating their frankly delicious meals Mary's eyes caught Molly's neckline and her brow furrowed in confusion as she finished chewing and swallowed, "Molly, what happened to your necklace?"

"Mhmm?" Molly asked glancing up from a spoonful of french onion that dripped thick with cheese off her spoon.

"Your necklace, didn't your father give it to you?"

Molly's hand jumped to her neckline and then she seemed to remember, "Oh yes, um, the night I was abducted, I lost it. I think one of the men nicked it to pawn off. Can't imagine why they would think it was worth anything, it's just a cheap metal cross my dad got me at a carnival when I was young."

Mary's face faded to a blank slab and her eyes looked passed Molly at the wall behind her, "Mary?" Molly asked. But the blonde woman was drawn back to the day she and her trio of gents had searched Molly's flat.

 _Oy! You need anything else in here before I call and report this an official crime scene?"_

 _Sherlock went to reply in the negative before he stopped and strode off to Molly's bedroom returning seconds later and saying, "All yours, Lestrade."_

It then occurred to her that she may have been the only one to notice Sherlock shoving his hand into his pocket, as if to drop something in and keep it out of sight.

"Oh yes," Mary started with a devious smile.

"What?" Mary was then pulled back to the present at Molly's question.

Mary looked to her and continued to smile, "Oh, he's such a naughty boy-"

"What? W-who?"

"Your boyfriend, Mr. William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

"Mary, I'm sorry but I'm not as clever as you, I'm not sure-"

"Sherlock took your necklace."

Molly froze, her face blank and her body going very still, "Ahem." was all Molly could manage to do and then she took a rather large gulp of her wine, her knuckles growing pale as she held the glass tightly.

"And, why would he do that?" Molly's voice was low and Mary suddenly had a feeling she may have spoken too soon, blurting out her realization before she thought about the consequences.

Mary's eyes scanned Molly's blank face, but she could see the anger starting to cloud her eyes, once again the famous Hooper temper was broiling below the surface.

"If only you could have seen him the night you were taken. He was so desperate to find you, he thought it was some scandal involving your mother. When he realized he had mis-deduced he was frantic, couldn't focus for the life of himself. I've never seen such a incompetent Sherlock and I hope I never see one again."

This seemed to startle Molly from her stormy moment and she looked up at Mary with confused eyes, "Why? Why would he take it? He knew how important that necklace was to me. It's all I have aside from an old pathology book and some pictures-"

"Maybe he was worried he wouldn't see you again-"

"No, you said he thought it was my mother who first abducted me, if that was the case he wouldn't be worried about me dying. My mother maybe a little off but she isn't a killer."

This seemed to be the first time this train of thought had hit Mary and her brow furrowed, "I suppose that's true, he did take the necklace before he realized you were taken by a crazy man- before he realized you were in real danger."

"Are you absolutely sure he took it? If I am going to confront him about this, I have to be right. After the incident with the letter I want to make sure I am yelling at him with legitimate ground to stand on."

Mary seemed to genuinely think about it and she didn't see any other way that it would make sense. Sherlock had made no mention of any of the men going into her room, he would have noticed- right? He was Sherlock Holmes, so of course he would.

"I am sure. He went into your room after his initial inspection of the flat, it was out of the blue and through it didn't look like he had done anything I saw him shove his hand into his pocket- like he was trying to hide taking something."

Molly took a deep breath and nodded, "Alright, then the next time I see him I am going to confront him."

"Brave woman!" Mary encouraged.

"Please, I am not scared of Sherlock bloody Holmes."

"No, you've just wanted to jump his bones for seven years."

Molly looked at Mary a moment, a look of shock etched across her face before she started to laugh along with Mary.

Thirty minutes later they were done eating, Molly paid as a treat to congratulate Mary on the perfect delivery of her beautiful baby and then they went there separate ways. Neither noticed the beautiful woman who had been sitting behind them in her own booth for the length of their conversation. Her bright blue eyes watched the two woman leave as a naughty smile curled across her face.

Molly was just stepping out of her bath, a glance to her bathroom window, and pulling a towel around her when she heard her phone go off.

She walked over to her vanity and picked it up expecting either Sherlock, Mary or Meena. To her surprise it was none of these people but an unknown number and the text was very strange.

 **Hello sweet thing. Can't wait to see you tonight! -W**

 **I'm sorry? Whose this? -MH**

 **Just a friend who has a wonderful game for you to play. I think you will really enjoy yourself. Assuming you are as clever as I think you are. -W**

 **Sherlock, stop messing with me. I've had a long day and I'm not in the mood. -MH**

 **Oh darling, this isn't Sherlock. This isn't a prank. I suppose I can give you a clue, if you promise to play when you've figured it out. -W**

 **No promises. -MH**

 **You're a no-nonsense type aren't you, and a little anal retentive, I can fix that for you if you like- -W**

 **Just tell me who you are, please? -MH**

 **Oh! Such manners, you really are a doll aren't you? Alright, Sherlock can recognize me from not-my-face. -W**

The phone slipped from Molly's hands, her eyes stared at her recently repaired mirror and a cool fear settled in the pit of her stomach.

Another chime from her phone made her come back to her senses and she instantly scooped up the phone and looked to see what was written.

 **Do you know who I am now Miss. Hooper? -W**

 **You're the woman, THE woman, Irene Adler. -MH**

 **Very good! So clever! Then again, that was rather easy. So, do you want to play a game? -W**

 **No. -MH**

 **Aw, morbid Molly doesn't want to play. Well, to bad. I honestly wasn't really asking. -W**

 **You can't make me do anything. You're supposed to be dead anyway. How do I know this isn't just someone pretending to be the woman? -W**

 **Ah, clever but no, I was never dead. Sherlock made sure of that. But, if it makes you feel any better, look out your kitchen window love. -W**

Molly rushed from her room, towel still tight around her waist and phone held firmly in her hand. She lunged to her kitchen window and looked out pressing the curtains aside. At first, she saw nothing. Just the hustle and bustle of the London streets. That is until she saw a woman in a big dark coat looking up at her, she waved her phone in her gloved hand, sunglasses and a shawl hiding her true features quite well. Though, Molly's were locked onto the coat the woman wore, for it was not a woman's coat, it was a belstaff, Sherlock's belstaff.

Molly couldn't stop the question from escaping her lips, "What?"

 **Now that I have your attention and you know I am who I say I am, why don't you play a game with me? -W**

 **How did you get Sherlock's belstaff? -MH**

 **Oh darling, I can get my hands on anything. Besides, this isn't the first time I've worn Sherlock's coat, and nothing else. -W**

Molly's eyes bugged out when she saw the woman on the corner extend a long and perfectly flawless bare leg out from the front of the coat, she cocked her head to the side and gave a coy smile.

Molly felt rage curl in her gut, **What's the game then? -MH**

 **Oh! Lovely! You've decided I'm an honest threat. Good, was hoping you were brighter then everyone thought. Would you like to have dinner? -W**

 **Where is Sherlock. -MH**

 **Much more clever then everyone thought. Here is the deal pretty young thing, I've got your boyfriend, and I would really love for you to come and get him. -MH**

 **Sherlock isn't my boy friend. And what's to stop me from getting the authorities involved? -MH**

 **You could I suppose, but then I'd have to do something rather drastic to our blue-eyed beauty. And I'd hate to have to cut up those cheek bones. -W**

 **Alright, when and where? -MH**

 **Lovely. Bring some champaign if you would. I'll send you directions, and darling, wear something sexy, I'd hate for all this preparation to go to waste. Also, just a friendly reminder, this is a solo mission. If I suspect anyone else, that includes Sherlock's little posse of homeless people, the Watson's, the DI or the elder Mr. Holmes, I will make sure Sherlock is kept under lock and key and I will do a lovely little knife dance all over his face, chest and thighs, understood? -W**

 **Yes. -MH**

 **See you soon darling. -W**

Molly looked back out the window to see the corner was now empty of the woman in the coat and she looked to see her hands were a shaking mess. What in GOD'S name was she going to do! She couldn't rescue Sherlock on her own! She wasn't- she wasn't crafty or cunning or clever, she was just Molly, mousy, morbid Molly Hooper.

It seemed almost absurd that she would need to save someone like Sherlock, who most likely, was so used to saving himself or had someone like John to help him.

Molly was about to dial Greg and John when she stopped looked over her shoulder to the window. The threat had been real, this woman, despite the rumors of their supposed special relationship was not one to let nostalgia get in the way apparently. She had just threatened to let Sherlock bleed out.

She had no choice, it was time for her to strengthen her resolve and rise above who she was. She ould be everything that Sherlock needed her to be. That's what people who were in love did, they always came through for the person they loved, no matter the cost to their own life.

Her phone chirped then and she saw she had an email. She opened it and scanned through it quickly. Directions to where Irene wanted Molly to go and a post script reminding her about the champagne and to dress sexy. Molly rolled her eyes at the last part, as if she really had anything she could consider sexy.

Still, she had to try.

She ran to her bedroom and started to pull out piles of clothes, all of which were pastel and khaki or black and covered in cute prints. Nothing screamed sexy, just insecure and comfortable.

That's when something caught Molly's eye and she crawled into the back of her wardrobe. There, with black words written across the top was a large white box.

Molly read the words, ' **DATING EMERGENCY ONLY!'**

"Thank you MEENA!" Molly cried as she pulled the box out and dusted off the lid.

As she untied the dark crimson ribbon and removed the lid her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged for the second time that night.

"Right-" Molly said as her face flushed and her stomach did a flip.

There HAD been a reason she had shoved this box into the very far back of her closet on the floor and under shoes.

Molly held up the black leather corset top and matching leather jacket that cut off at her waist line. She saw the skin tight leggings with zippers that ran from the ankle all the way up to the top waist line of the pants. Easy-on-easy-off. Molly thought as she swallowed thickly.

Molly knew what kind of woman THE WOMAN was, she had done her research. Wearing something like this was just inviting trouble, but she had absolutely nothing else! She made a mental note to start buying one or two more sexy clothing items to prevent events like this in the future.

"One must always be prepared when they are friends with Sherlock Holmes." Molly murmured as Toby her cat, who had been missing for three days by the way, wondered in and sat down in the now empty box and started to purr.

"You are so dead when I get home!" She hissed at him through clenched teeth and then she shoved herself up and was taking this trash outfit into the bathroom.

Molly's hands were still shaking, her chest was beating a million miles an hour so she reached over and turned on her small stereo, Elle King's _Exs and Ohs_ was playing and Molly gave an irritated sigh, "Perfect for this outfit, a cruel irony for me." she murmured as she continued to dress.

Once she was in the skin tight and highly uncomfortable outfit, leather waistcoat zipped up, she looked at her face in the mirror and then glanced to her makeup kit. She only had a few darker colors of eye shadow, none that actually complimented her. She decided on black eye liner, and a very light smokey eye, anything to heavy would make her look rather whorish. She opted for the only dark lipstick she had, which was a crimson and she stuck her tongue out at how thin it made her lips look.

"Rubbish, this is all rubbish." But she didn't remove her make up, and turned to the mess that was her hair. She took a black ribbon from her sewing box and tide her hair up in a messy bun pulling stay strands out to hang about her face.

She then turned to the one item worth calling sexy in her whole entire house. A pair of black velvet kitten heels that she had only worn once. A bad night and a twisted ankle later she had stored them under her bed and swore she would never try that again.

Finally, as she looked into her mirror and _Shake it off_ by Taylor Swift came on the radio her lips parted in shock and her eyes watered a little, "You don't look- half-bad old girl." Toby had left the box and was wrapping himself around her ankles and purring like crazy.

"Thank you." Molly said nodding to him.

Molly didn't bother with her purse but she did grab her phone to make sure she had the directions and grabbed her keys and wallet before heading out the door.

She had stopped at the store to grab a bottle of champagne, flushing a little as she felt eyes from many different people on her the whole way through the store. The clerk couldn't seem to ring up her purchase nearly fast enough, his eyes more interested in scanning her then his hands were about scanning the champagne, before Molly grabbed the bottle and high tailed it out of there. Once back in the safety of her car Molly made a very un-Molly like decision. She swung her car around and went to Bart's.

She moved through the areas that she knew would be empty and entered the morgue, finding her preferred collection of scalpels and various other knives. She took the roll of cloth they were stored in and unrolled it around her waist, clasping the two ends together so that the knives were easy to access.

She then zipped up her leather waist coat noting only the bottom edge of the roll hung out and no silver was visible. Molly's stomach rolled and her hands began to shake again, "You're fine. It's fine. It's all fine." She told herself as she turned and went out the way she came in, knowing full well she could not only get fired for taking medical implements but that she may very well have to use them on a not-a-dead-body type of person.

A voice in her head spoke quickly, _free Sherlock, give HIM the knives and then stand back._

Molly nodded to no one as she climbed into her car, careful that none of the knives stabbed at her and took off towards the outskirts of London.

One hour later she pulled off the main road onto a dirt track, images of her abduction flooding her mind's eye as she glanced out into the dark woods around her. She shivered and took a deep breath, "You can do this, you can do this-" she started to repeat over and over.

The email told her to leave her car at the end of the road and walk up a stone path to the left. She parked her car and noticed a green range rover sitting off to the side. Her brow furrowed, but she did not stop to dwell as she turned and started heading off into the dark.

She found the path and was re-leaved to see small solar laps lighting the path. Molly had been dreading trying to walk a stone path through the woods in kitten heels.

She followed the path slowly, listening for anything that might sound like someone else was out here. Only the stillness of the night greeted her and so Molly pressed on, her hand absentmindedly rubbing over the front of her jacket, reminding her that she was not defenseless. Not at all.

As she came to a rather large curve in the path the trees thinned and Molly saw soft yellow light filtering through the trees. She picked up the pace, careful not to trip and when she emerged from the woods she was greeted by the most beautiful large mansion she had ever seen. All windows and brick, with steepled roofs and pruned hedges, large garden beds, accent lights and multiple old-fashion chimney tops.

"Oh my-" she breathed. The path she was on continued and so she followed it. The large windows were all lit up but lace curtains hung down blocking most of her view. As she reached the front of the house Molly decided she was not going to just walk up and knock. No, if she wanted the element of surprise she would have to improvise.

"What would Sherlock do?"

Molly thought a moment and then smiled, "Alternate means of entry."

Molly very stealthily, as stealthily as she could in kitten heels mind you, and slowly crept around the side of the house, peering in every window she could, trying to see through the lace curtains to the other side.

She found her mark and jumped back from the light as she realized this window did not have curtains, and was in fact open to the night air. She heard a voice speaking, a woman's voice, soft and light, a chuckle flittering out into the night.

"She'll be here soon and then we will get down to brass tacts darling."

Molly could hear a harsh mumble but couldn't make it out.

"Now now darling, this is for your own good, I need to return the favor and all, since Karachi. Don't worry I won't hurt her much, just rough her up a bit. I mean, after all, this is all for you but I can have a little fun can't I?"

Another barked mumble and Molly realized why she couldn't understand it, the mumble was in fact Sherlock, who was currently gagged with a silk scarf, his eyes ablaze with an angry heat and his brow furrowed in an almost snarl. His hands were cuffed behind his back, tight and un yielding, his feet tide tightly to the chair legs.

"Wish you could have seen the precious girls face when she saw me in your coat, an absolute fiery jealousy that one has. Quite a temper too, she'd be your perfect match to fight with, it would go on for h _ours and hours_ -" the seductive tone did not get passed Molly and she swallowed.

Molly glanced at the champagne bottle in her hand and quickly spun it in her hand, gripping the neck tightly. She very gently unzipped her coat and pulled from her arsenal her favorite scalpel, the one she always used when slicing up a cadaver.

Taking a breath, gritting her teeth and lunging forward Molly made it through the window without tripping and stood hunched before the window, bottle raised high above her head, ready to throw, scalpel out before her, poised to strike a blow down across someone's chest.

She breathed in slowly through her nose and her eyes flicked back and forth between Sherlock, whose blue eyes were so large and his brow so high Molly thought his face may implode, THE WOMAN, who was sitting on the tea ready table before Sherlock was frozen, lips inches from his brow, hands frozen in his brown curls.

"Well- you certainly chose the most impressive entrance I've seen yet from Sherlock's motley crew, and that outfit, absolutely fetching." Irene said removing herself from the table and moving to stand on the other side, her arms crossed over her chest, her clever cat-like eyes boring into Molly with such a sexually charged intensity that Molly's knees almost buckled. But she managed to stay up and her grip on the knife tightened.

"Release him. Now." Molly said, absolutely thrilled her voice didn't break and her stutter had elected to stay at home today.

"Oh sweet thing, you aren't actually in the position to give orders. How about you put down the bottle and the-"

"Scalpel." Molly finished.

"Right, and come and join us at the table."

"I'd rather not if it's all the same to you. I've only come to get my detective. I'll be on my way presently if you'd be so kind as to untie my friend."

"Your detective is he? Funny, I rather thought he was mine- then again, I really don't mind sharing. We could have a fun little party. You, me and our detective, sandwiched in the middle."

A grunt came from Sherlock, his wide almost terrified eyes jerked to Irene before back to Molly. Molly felt a smirk slide across her face, the look of utter horror on Sherlock's face was almost worth this whole mess.

But Molly refrained from laughing though it was difficult and raised the bottle higher, "Sorry Miss. Adler, but Sherlock doesn't DO sentiment, or haven't you heard, he's married to his work."

Molly felt a giddiness rise in her stomach and a feeling of wonderful power fill her chest, her shaking hands stilled and her eyes sharpened as she slowly started to move sideways towards Sherlock's position.

"Married to his work is he? Then pray tell, what exactly, is that on his throat?" Irene asked motioning slightly towards Sherlock before bringing her finger back to her perfect jawline.

"I may not be as clever as Sherlock, or as brave as John, but I am most certainly not that stupid. I'll not look away from you for a tick Miss. Adler."

"Not even behind you?" Miss. Adler cooed as a cruel smirk spread across her face.

Molly knew the woman was bluffing but she just couldn't take that chance, so she launched the champagne bottle at the woman who had no choice but to hit the floor and in that moment Molly spun and let out a shriek, for there was in fact a man behind her. A large man.

As Molly jumped backward and lost her balance she pressed her feet up and the heels of her shows stabbed straight into the man's dangly bits. He let out a howl and fell next to Molly who by now had let her shoes fall from her feet and crawled away, she saw the man reach for her and with out even thinking swiped her scalpel through the air, the man's howl growing double.

"SHITE!" Molly chirped as she stumbled away, quickly regaining her balance and turning to see Irene had stood and was reaching under the table for something, "NO!" Molly barked.

Irene froze and Molly unzipped her jacket the rest of the way exposing her tool kit, this time both Sherlock and Irene looked surprised, Sherlock's surprise turning into a cheer of exaltation.

"Not an inch Miss. Adler, I've already had to scrape up your minion, I'd hate to have to cut up that pretty face, it's all you have after all." Molly felt the voice in her head shriek and writhe in protest- _WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY! OHMYGOD YOU ARE SO DEAD!_

"Well, you ARE a treat. I'd take that last comment as an insult but considering you don't actually know me and you work with sick people for a living I can only assume you cheery disposition is the result of having to clean up after the old and feeble. Rather nasty, but I suppose someone has to."

"Wrong. I'm a pathologist, which means I cut open and dissect dead people, that also means I can cut up and dissect _living_ people with little to no qualms. So I'd tread carefully Miss. Adler, because Sherlock can attest, I have VERY steady hands."

Molly saw her eyes sharpen but the smile on her face never faltered, she put her hands on her hips and said softly, "Oh, I do want you. You'd make a lovely addition to my little family. Perhaps, Friday night-"

"Nope, no dinner. Now, step away from my detective, and I will leave with out the need to see if there is a heart in that chest of yours."

"You are so delicous!" Irene said as she stepped away from the table and moved to sit in an arm chair by the window. Molly once again kept her eyes open, not ignoring the man who was still in a puddle on the floor nearby, nor Miss. Adler whose eyes were as clever and intense as ever.

"S-sherlock, where is the key?" She whispered cursing that she stuttered out his name, "Mmm!"

"Oh, right, sorry." She quickly undid his gag, raising her scalpel up once his mouth was free, "It's in her dress." Sherlock said.

"W-WHAT!" Molly barked, her eyes looking from Sherlock to Irene whose eyes were so alight and her smile so mischievous Molly almost blanched.

"Just do it." Sherlock ordered and Molly nodded with out protest, "My my you've trained her well. You call and she responds, if only I'd trained you so well."

"For God's sake Irene give Molly the key!" Sherlock barked, "The game is over!"

Molly was halfway to Irene when she stopped and looked back to Sherlock, he nodded his head with a jerk and Molly swallowed.

She approached the woman and stopped right before her, eye's brilliant blue eyes looking up to her and Molly felt sweat start to form on her brow, "If you move, I slice, I don't care if you sneeze, got it?" Molly asked.

Irene nodded, "Absolutely, precious."

"Stand up- no, stay seated." Molly walked around to the backside of the couch and brought the scalpel to Irene's swan-like neck. She pressed it up just under her jaw, "One twitch-" Molly warned and Irene smirked, "Got it."

Molly's free hand slide around and started to feel down the woman's sides, Irene's eyes locked onto Sherlock and the man seemed steadfastly determined not to follow Molly's roaming hands. But Irene could see the sweat start to collect on his own brow, he was, after all, still a man.

Small hands roamed down Irene's thighs, gripping here and there, "W-where, Sherlock!" She whispered desperately.

"Her top." He said in a monotone voice, his eyes just barely flicking away and Irene's eyes grew even more determined to see his slip. She didn't blink or move.

Molly gulped though her mouth was dry and she sighed, "Of course-" she whispered as her hand slowly came up and then disappeared under fabric. "S-sorry-" Molly stammered to Irene, "Oh, no worries darling, truth be told I bat for your team anyway, are you sure you won't have dinner with me?"

"Positive. Where is- AH!" Molly said quickly snatching the key and pulling it free from Irene's bodice.

Molly quickly backed away and returned to Sherlock who was stiff as a board, his eyes still staring straight at Irene who winked and leaned back in the arm chair.

Molly's shakes had returned and she tried in vain for several seconds before the cuffs clicked open and Sherlock reached down to undo his legs.

As soon as he was free he strode up to Irene and frowned, "Absolutely despicable."

"I was so close, I could have had you both, now I get none, at least give me a thank you." Irene pouted playfully as she pulled his belstaff from the coat rack behind her and handed him his coat.

"You. Are. Horrid." he hissed.

"I am everything you want me to be darling, now, off you pop and head back to Baker street, I suggest you take the pathologist with you as she is dressed for the occasion."

Sherlock turned to see Molly whose eyes were locked onto the man who was finally starting to move around, she raised up her scalpel and crouched, "Molly!" Sherlock barked, the woman looked to him with such an innocent face Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. His face was turned away from Molly by Adler's finger, "She's one of you now, she's tasted blood, and she's going to want more- don't deny her or she might come looking for me, and unlike you I won't waste such- talent."

Sherlock grunted and rolled his eyes, "Such a drama queen."

"And your my king, but since I can't give you what you want, I know she can. Enjoy my thank you Mr. Holmes. And do be a dear and call next time you're in the states. I'd love to have dinner with both of you."

Sherlock knew when he was being dismissed and his eyes narrowed as he called for Molly and made to move out the window in which Molly had so dramatically entered.

The petite pathologist followed, keeping a weary eye on Miss. Adler who only smiled and gave a dainty wave.

TO BE CONTINUED...

R&R


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews! Special response to SammyKats, I absolutely adore Hannibal but I couldn't feed Irene to him, as she is technically to thank for what happens in this chapter. Smiley face. Please enjoy and thanks again for being such awesome readers. ALSO THIS IS NOT EDITED, SORRY ABOUT ALL MISTAKES!**

 **Molly's First Kiss**

Molly remembered the first time she had ever seen the movie ' _The Princess Bride.'_ She had been so enchanted with it that she watched it over and over every chance she got for months. Her favorite line ocuring at the end of the movie as the hero and heroine sat atop their beautiful white horses and stared deeply into each other's eyes.

She remembered the words the narrator, a old grandpa who reminded her of her own father truth-be-told, said the finishing line. _"Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind."_

Longing had twisted at her stomach to find something so pure and honest, to find true meant-to-be love. Though as she got older and she grew more jaded and her life filled with more responsibility she slowly let go of those inclinations towards such fantasy based delusions.

She let her guard down and stopped trying to be the virtuous princess. She started to date and eventually she got her first kiss. An awkward affair that lasted all of five seconds in the treehouse behind her father's old shed. She had boy friends and eventually lost her virginity too. She started getting more serious with men and started dating on longer terms. When Sherlock came along, though she dated on and off she became trapped in the friend zone and an unrequited love that had thus far lasted seven years made her love life come to a screeching halt. Then, she became engaged to a man she didn't love for all the wrong reasons.

Now, as she walked down a stone path through the dark woods, her own "princess" having been rescued from the evil clutches of the king, she felt completely at peace with her past romances. The unrequited love she held for Sherlock burning strong as always but sated by the fact that she had finally been able to prove to him and herself that she was so much more than the sum of her parts.

She hummed and skipped a little, paying no mind to the brooding man who was only a few paces behind her. The thrill of it all was building like a burning star rising into the night sky. She was so lost in her own drunken exuberance that she spun and started to laugh and giggle, throwing her hands in the air, "The evil lord Humperdink has been slayed, the princess rescue and Wesley saves the day! Thank you! Thank you! You're far to kind!" Molly said bowing to a fake audience before removing the tool kit from her waist and rolling it up.

"Oh, I can't believe I just did that! Secret agent Molly Hooper, at your service!"

They had left the path now and Molly walked to her car, unlocking it and tossing the kit into the back seat. She spun and slammed her door, turning her ecstatic smile on Sherlock who slowly moved passed her towards the green range rover, "You know, maybe I could freelance for your brother-" she followed Sherlock to his car and laughed a little, she was joking of course. She wasn't stupid, this entire night had been sheer luck and good old solid nerve. She wasn't a spy or assassin, and this type of thing would probably never happen again but, man, did she feel like she was untouchable.

"I think I understand why John is so addicted to this sort of lifestyle. If I did stuff like that everyday as my job I would probably have to go sky diving just to keep from getting bored-"

That's when it happened, Sherlock's hands shot out and gripped Molly tightly around the waist, Molly gasped and then she was pressed firmly against the rover, Sherlock's lips descending onto her own, crashing against her like a wave on the rocky shores.

She was so shocked, so utterly surprised that at first she pressed her hands against his chest in an attempt to escape his roaming hands and mouth. But an irritated growl from Sherlock and his large hangs sliding up to painfully squeeze her bum made her still.

As he pressed his lips more firmly to her's, Molly's confusion faded and her head lulled back against the window, her hands moving from pushing against his chest to spreading and sliding around his torso, nails digging into his stiff back muscles and dress shirt.

A long, low moan crawled up from her throat and she opened her mouth to let it out, Sherlock taking this opportunity to press his tongue forward, tasting the pallet of her mouth, lapping kisses deep and passionate.

When Sherlock finally pulled away, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to her's, small pants escaping past their swollen lips and meshing in the air between them.

So caught up in her mind, trying to sort her feelings and emotions, the words escaped from her mouth at barely above a whisper before she even realized she was saying them, " Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind."

Molly's eyes shot open and she looked up to Sherlock, whose blue eyes were looking at her with such a regretful and sorrow filled stare Molly realized she was about to be hurt, badly, "No-" Molly whispered.

"No, you can't just- take it back."

Sherlock leaned down and kissed her cheek, "I am sorry, Molly Hooper-"

"No!" Molly cried as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. She pulled back when Sherlock did not return the kiss, "No, don't- don't do this to me, I can't- I can't do this with you again. Please don't go-"

Sherlock gently took her hands and began to pull them away from his neck, "No, no no-" Molly mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut and fighting against his ever so gentle fingers.

"I won't let go, you kissed me, you kissed me and held me and I won't give you what you want Sherlock!" She protested but he managed to free himself from her desperate grip.

"I love you- I love you so much." Molly whimpered as she looked down at the ground and brushed the tears from her eyes.

Sherlock took her face up into his hands and kissed her again, on the mouth, desperate and deep and honest and Molly sobbed into it, placing her hands over his trying to kiss him back through her anguish .

He pulled back again and let out a husky growl of frustration before he released his hold on her and started to move away towards the driver side door.

"Why!" Molly barked in a last ditch effort to get Sherlock to stay, "Why can't you love me!" She cried out as she stomped her foot and slammed her fist against the rover next to her.

The tall man stopped, his hand on the door, his head down, he glanced over his shoulder at her and spoke so softly Molly nearly missed it, "I already do Miss. Hooper." He got into the rover then, not another word said and Molly, her jaw nearly on the ground, watched as he pulled out and drove off through the woods.

Molly didn't hesitate, she lunged towards her car and yanked open the driver side door, shoving herself in and pressing the key into the ignition with more force then was necessary. She spun her car around, the tires screeching in protest before she shot out of the clearing after her. The quote from her childhood ringing in her ears.

She sped faster then she had ever sped before, but she saw no sign of Sherlock's car. She had never thought in her whole life she would have to chase after the man she loved, but this was the very last straw. There would be no second chances after this, Mary had asked what Molly would do if she could get away with anything. Well, now Molly's threat would come through. By the time the sun came up tomorrow she would either have Sherlock or she would be packing her things and she would be gone before the sun set. It was time Molly gave her ultimatum.

She came to a stop outside Baker street, her car's tire coming to stop upon the curve. She ignored the cat calls from the men across the street and walked right up to the door, she tried the knob and it gave. A sigh of relief coming though her determination and spirit continued to push her through the house.

She climbed the stairs and though she heard frustrated voices coming from the flat she kept going and walked right into 221 B, crossing her arms over her chest and scanning until she landed on Sherlock who looked like he had also just arrived.

John, Mary and baby Elizabeth were on the couch, Sherlock's brother Mycroft was perched in Sherlock's leather chair, his fingers laced and steepled on the handle of his umbrella.

She noticed Greg leaning against the doorframe between the living room and kitchen, he had started at her sudden appearance, bare foot and dressed in an outfit only women of certain proclivities would wear.

"Oh my god! Molly, what are you wearing!" came Mary's voice, though it sounded less shocked and more approving.

"Why are you all here?" she asked, her eyes finally landing on Sherlock, who was staring at her with sharp narrow eyes.

"Sherlock's been missing two days, we thought he was in trouble, we all came here looking for him." Mary said, "Assumed he'd gone on a case and got snatched."

"Or that he fell off the wagon again." Greg added.

"I WAS on a case, one that has just concluded, and I would very much like you all to get out so that I may go to sleep."

"Odd." Mycroft said.

"What?" Sherlock snapped.

"You show no signs of real fatigue, in fact you seem rather vibrant. I hardly believe sleep is actually at the for front of your mind."

"Everyone out!" Sherlock snapped.

"Molly, what are you doing here?" Mary asked, ignoring Sherlock's order completely.

Molly continued to stare at Sherlock whose face was stone, his eyes awash with unshared emotions.

"I've come to speak to Sherlock. Anyone who doesn't want to bare witness to a conversation that I bound to be overly dramatic and awkward should leave now."

John instantly stood but Mary grabbed his wrist and yanked him back down, he gave her a look of shock, "What, really?" He asked glancing to the two in the center of the room before he looked back to his wife.

"No way in hell am I missing this-" Mary said with a shocked smile etched across her features. Greg moved to stand next to Mycroft and neither he nor the elder Holmes looked to be going anywhere.

"Molly-" Sherlock warned as he held up his hand and motioned for her to be silent.

"Not this time. I am sorry Sherlock but I've always done everything you have ever asked of me. No matter the sacrifice or the possible trouble I could get into. I have to speak my mind now, or I won't ever do it."

"You've spoken your mind to me too much, I think we all know where this is going and I won't feed into your delusions-"

"Perhaps I'd aqueous to you if I thought my delusions were one-sided, but after tonight I know they aren't. So, Mr. Holmes, we have a problem. As I am desperately in love with you, I have been for seven years and up until an hour ago I thought it was only me. But after what you did, what you said- I can't let this go anymore. We are going to hash this out right now, and by the time I leave here it's either going to be to grab an over night bag, or to pack up my apartment and leave, permanently."

Silence filled the room, Sherlock's eyes growing wide, his mouth set in a disbelieving frown, "Whoa whoa, what happened tonight?" Mary asked, "You can't possibly be serious, you can't leave just because Sherlock doesn't love you-"

"But he does love me, he told me so." Molly said.

All eyes turned to Sherlock whose face paled considerably, "I am sorry Sherlock, you know you can trust me, I've never told any secret you've ever entrusted me with to anyone, but this isn't life or death, this isn't just about you, I am involved too."

"You must be joking." Greg said as he looked to the detective in the room who stood, arm dropping to his side in such a defeated manor that Greg realized there was, in fact, no joking at all.

"So, you kissed me, you took me up in your arms, knowing full well how fragile my heart is when it comes to you, and then you pulled away and smashed it, leaving me in those woods alone, after admitting your love for me. And you expected me to, what? Go home? Take a bath? Drown my sorrows in chocolates and Glee and then when you showed up at Bart's in three months everything would go back to normal?"

More silence and Sherlock looked away in shame, "You did didn't you, you thought I'd do what I always do. Let you have your cake and eat it too and suffer in silence as you got to go about your life blissfully ignorant of the utter and completely devastating pain you had just caused to me."

"Jesus Sherlock." John said, his eyes looking to his best friend in a disturbing image of distaste.

"I couldn't stop myself." Sherlock said softly.

Molly felt her anger deflate a little, but she wasn't going to back down now, she pressed him, "Couldn't help what? Kissing me or torturing me?"

"You rescued me tonight Molly. All on your own, you showed up and saved my life. Despite our similarities and respect for each other, Miss. Adler would have done what ever was necessary to get the information she wanted. When she told me she had gotten you involved and that you were on your way, I had to tell her what she wanted to know. I couldn't bare to think of that woman, THE woman getting her hands on you, no matter her intent. I broke Molly, and I never break."

"What does that have to do with-"

"I kissed you because you are brilliant, I held you because I was so relieved you had made it out of their unscathed, and I told you the truth because you deserved to know, after everything you've done, you deserved to know the truth."

"But you rejected me after, why would you do that? It's like giving a starving man food and then taking it away! I thought I was going to die, I thought my heart was going to explode from the pain, why can't you understand-"

"Why can't you!" Sherlock barked, his hands ran through his hair, "Caring is NOT an advantage! I gave up information, important top-secret information, to THAT WOMAN! If it had been anyone else, anyone at all, I wouldn't have worried, John, Lestrade, Mary! They could handle anything Adler threw at them, but you, my sweet little Molly Hooper, I didn't think- I couldn't fathom you getting hurt for me. I've kept you at arms length for years! I've kept you away, and buried deep in the basement of that hospital knowing full well that as long as you were there, you would be safe! You wouldn't be noticed, you wouldn't be suspected. You were just a pathologist who occasionally helped me with experiments! But then Moriarty came, and you were slowly, over the next few years, pulled in closer and closer. I tried harder to push you away, but you so expertly wormed your way in, you were supposed to be an innocent Molly! You were supposed to remain untouched by me, untainted. Everyone who has ever come into contact with me eventually changes. I didn't want you to change, sweet, innocent kind Molly Hooper who could ALWAYS see me. See me when I was at my best and worst and knew just when to say something and when to remain blissfully quiet."

"Sherlock-" Molly started, tears spilling down her face, her throat thick with mucus and her chest aching far worse then it had earlier.

"YOU MAKE ME WEAK!" Sherlock screamed.

This silence was thick, so thick that no one dare breath, nor move. All eyes were on Sherlock, Mary and Mycroft having gone pale, John and Greg looking at a complete loss, there was nothing, absolutely nothing coming to their minds to try and alleviate this situation.

"You make me weak! I would do anything to keep you safe and out of harms way. I would steal, cheat, kill, betray my own country if it was needed to ensure your safety. I can't allow you to have what you want, because you are my greatest weakness. My Achilles heel, and I can't risk becoming that selfish, that thoroughly caught up in sentiment and want knowing that I would do everything in my power to keep you out of harms way. If I am with you, I am a danger to everyone around me, including you!"

Molly rushed forward, wrapping her hands around him and sobbing, "Please, please let yourself love me, please love me-"

Sherlock growled and started to pry her off him, "No-" he started. But Molly's grip tightened and she let her knees bend to make it harder for him to remove her.

"No!" He yelled. But as his hands kept slipping, Molly's refusal to let go and Sherlock's own rage getting the better of him he slowly stopped trying and clenched his fists, gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, "I do not love you." he said.

Molly's petite frame tensed, "You're lying." she murmured as she buried her head into Sherlock's stomach.

"I told you what would make you happy." he said again, his tone becoming low and calm.

"Sherlock-" John started but Sherlock held up a hand, "I do NOT love you Molly Hooper! Love of any kind offends me. You, and this pathetic display of desperation offend me."

Molly shook her head no and buried her face deeper, "Stop-" Mary said standing, her face alight with rage.

"I do not, will not, cannot love you. I think it would be best if you- if you returned home and began packing your bags. I will personally see to finding you a knew residence and a new job- I will make this transition as easy as possible-"

"No, no no no-" Molly started to whisper.

"I've turned you into this, this simpering wretch, and I shall help you leave me behind so that you can find someone-"

Molly released him and stood then, her face red and splotchy, her eyes brimming with tears and her hands clenched in such anger, "I don't want anyone else! I want you! Your mood swings and anger and frustration and hurtful words and kind smiles and violin at 3 a.m. And eye balls in the fridge and experiments blowing up the flat and crime solving that doesn't let you home for days and your crazy fits of boredom and fighting the urge to shoot the wall and your ridiculous ego and- and- your beautiful mind, Sherlock. I want everything that comes with you, the good, the bad and the horribly ugly."

Sherlock just stared at her, his eyes filled with frustration, his brow upturned in fear, teeth grit in utter consternation and gasping breaths escaping through parted lips.

"I. Cant. Love-"

"You already do. And once you get it, you're in an awful fix, cause after you've had it, you never want to quit." Molly said, taking a deep breath and pulling her emotions back in.

"I broke into Miss. Adler's home tonight, I attacked a man with a scalpel and rescued you from that woman who was about to slice you open like a melon. I dressed the part, spoke the clever witty words and helped you escape. Just like John, Mary or Greg would have done and have done before. I can be everything for you that they are, you just have to teach me. I would go into this knowing that if I were ever taken, you may not come for me- that your oath to king and country, to your brother- may not allow it."

"It would not allow it at all Miss. Hooper-" Mycroft said looking upon the woman with, dare anyone say it, piteous eyes.

"Then I will take that chance. I'd rather be skinned alive and made into shoes then ever go another day pinning over a love that I know for a fact is absolutely returned but denied to me by shear force of will."

Sherlock looked around the room at all the faces, his resolve growing weaker by the moment, "I c-can't-"

"Stop denying yourself happiness. You've always taken what you wanted. Nothing has ever stopped you, why deny yourself the one thing that could really make you happy?" Molly asked.

"Get. Out." Sherlock said softly.

Molly's lips closed firmly, er eyes pressed shut, her brow furrowed in rage and then she marched forward and grabbed Sherlock by his jacket, planting a kiss firmly on his lips. She held nothing back, as her tongue forced it's way into his mouth and her hands strayed up to his jaw to hold him firmly in place.

"Go Molly!" Mary yelled, John had stood abruptly as did Mycroft and the two were beelining for the door, John turning only long enough to grab his wife and baby and usher them out the door, "Come on Greg! We've way over stayed our welcome!" Greg seemed pulled from his shocked musings and realized he'd been staring at this dangerously suggestive kiss for far longer then was decent.

"Ahem, right, I'll just, uh, give you and Mary a ride home shall I?" Greg asked, ignoring the fact that John had driven his own car.

Soon enough the door closed and Molly instantly started pulling Sherlock's coat off his shoulders. Then she unzipped her waist coat and pressed herself firmly to him. Taking his waist in her hands she started to press him harder and Sherlock's grounded legs finally moved. She pressed him backwards until his legs hit the couch that John and Mary had just vacated and he collapsed below her.

"Molly-" he got out with a pant before she grabbed his hands and brought them around to her bum, she ran her hands through his hair, dragging her nails gently across his scalp, "Moooolly-" Sherlock moaned out in protest.

Molly continued to remain silent as she started to unbutton his shirt, Sherlock's hands jumping to her wrist to still her nimble fingers, "I don't love you!"

Molly frowned and tried to continue her work on the buttons, but Sherlock smacked her hands away. So, in her own frustration she pulled back and slapped him blank across his face.

As Sherlock's head slowly turned back to her she poked him in the chest with a finger, "You DO love me."

"I lied-"

"You are lying about lying!" Molly slapped him again, this time much less forcefully and Sherlock's eyes narrowed before he rocked forward and thrust her down on the coffee table before him. He pressed his hips between her legs and held her wrist tight.

"If you slap me one more time Miss. Hooper I shall not refrain from slapping you back, I've given you fair warning."

Molly tried to jerk her hands free, "Noted! Now let me go!"

"I don't think so, I think I am going to keep you right here until you calm down-" he stopped and grit his teeth as Molly started to rock her pelvic bone against his groin.

"Maybe not the best idea-" he hissed before he stood up and pulled her with him. He then pinned her chest first to the door and gave a triumphant smirk, "Now, when you calm down, I will let you leave-"

"After you-" Molly said, she pressed her bum out and started swaying against him again.

"Gah! Insufferable woman!" Sherlock bit letting her go and moving back towards his chair.

"I'm not leaving here until you admit you love me. And I mean actually admit it, not just say what I want to hear. Admit to yourself, Sherlock, that you love me!" Molly said firmly.

"I will not-"

"Then I guess we are going to be fighting, _for hours and hours_ -"

Sherlock seemed to gulp before he crouched and braced himself, Molly ran at him and jumped. Hooking her legs around his waist and smashing her lips to his. Sherlock dropped to his knees and fell forward, Molly's head thwacking the floor.

"Uh! Damn-" She said through clenched teeth and watery eyes.

"All the more reason to stop this absurd game you've decided to play."

Molly smacked him across the face, the third time since she'd arrived and Sherlock looked at her with such rage, "HAVE AT THEE, CRUEL TEMPTRESS!"

They tumbled around the floor for a good twenty minutes, neither getting the upper hand long enough to actually do anything about their situation. Finally, as they both came to roll to a stop at the center of the room Molly let go and they separated. Both were on their backs, breathing heavy and utterly spent.

"This- is- pointless-" Sherlock hissed out.

"No, this- is- foreplay-" Molly said with a smile and then she rolled over and straddled him.

Sherlock let his head thump the floor and he rolled his eyes before he looked up at her and gave a genuine smile for the first time since she had arrived.

"You're not going to let this go-"

"No." Molly said as she leaned down and came to rest upon his chest, her chin resting on the back of her hand.

"Alright. I suppose we can try it-"

"Try what?"

"Try IT, the thing- the thingy thing-" Sherlock said as his hand wobbled through the air pointing at nothing.

"Dating?"

"What ever this is- we can try it- but I promise, after a few days, maybe a week, you will get fed up... and you will leave."

Molly looked at him quizzically, "I've been your friend for seven years, what makes you think I couldn't handle you?"

Sherlock gave her a serious look, "You may have been a friend to Sherlock Holmes, but you've never been loved by him. I'm not normal Molly, and that will play a key factor to what ever this is that you want to do. Unlike Janine, I won't be putting up a front with you- you'll see all of me."

"I've seen all of you since the first day you ever deduced me."

Sherlock sighed, "I suppose we will just have to wait and see."

 **A/N: R &R the next chapter is the final one, and there will be one HELL of a zesty lemon so stay tuned.** **Please give me your honest critiques on this chapter. It went OOC pretty often, so I'd like to know how I can improve for the next chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: The final chapter! Expect lemon zesty goodness! Thank you again and again and again for all your kind words and wonderfully forthcoming reviews. I appreciate it immensely. Once again this chapter is not edited. So any mistakes are mine. And to the guest who said several grammar and spelling mistakes put them off reading this story, sorry, I write for fun not perfection. Please enjoy the last chapter you wonderful readers you. And sorry this took so long to post. I had huge issues writing this scene because unlike my other story bestial urges I tried to keep this more in character. Love you!

Molly's Favorite Movie

Sherlock strode into the Watson residence just after nine in the morning. He had picked the lock, despite the fact that he had been granted a key, and marched straight through the foyer and into the kitchen. He plopped down in the third chair, specifically purchased for him, and reached forward taking a piece of toast from the holder. Two heaping smears of marmalade jam and a scoop of eggs later left Sherlock munching happily and Mary and John staring in outraged silence.

Completely oblivious to their frustration Sherlock poured himself some coffee from the shining white carafe perched on the corner of the table and then added cream and two sugars, all the while his toast hanging from his teeth, jam dripping with plops onto his plate.

Finally, John stiffly wiped his face with a napkin before throwing it down on the table and planting his hand on his thigh, he cleared his throat and waited.

Mary, whose brow had furrowed in question as her eyes narrowed and lips pursed, took a breath and cocked her head to the side, "Sooooo-" she started.

John cleared his throat again and slid further forward on his chair, though this did not grab Sherlock's attention as he texted wildly on his phone.

In the end it was Baby Elizabeth who had grabbed his attention, her sudden outburst of rapid giggles drawing sharp blue eyes up and away from the vibrant screen, a small smirk spreading across his face as he reached his arm across the table to gently take one of Elizabeth's flailing hands.

In that second both Mary and John smacked his hand away and Sherlock jerked in shock before his eyes scanned back and forth between the two.

"Judging by the glare I am receiving from not just your father but also your mother, I would say I have done something a bit not-good and that mummy and daddy would like to have a word with me Lizzy-"

"You're damn right." John snapped before he crossed his arms over his chest, Mary returned to feeding Lizzy but her cool eyes stayed on Sherlock who was finishing the last of his toast with a very relaxed air.

Sighing, Sherlock set down his fork and took a gulp of his coffee before he wiped his mouth and then leaned back in his chair, "Alright, ask-"

"What in blue blazes happened last night!" John barked.

"And what happened last night after we left!" Mary asked with excitement.

"Uh, no! I don't want to know- Just, what happened with Adler. Mycroft and I were both under the impression she was dead-"

"Are you really so surprised that Miss. Adler is alive and well?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes! Last I heard from Mycroft she had been killed in Karachi- or something-"

"So you lied to me?" Sherlock asked, though his tone was anything but contemptuous.

This seemed to make John hesitated before he tried to backpedal, "I- no- well I did but it wasn't-"

"Don't worry John, I was well aware of Mycroft's decision to lie to me about Miss. Adler's death as well as his decision to try and wrangle you into it. I've not held you accountable for my brother's atrocious nature for secret keeping. I've known her to be alive this whole time, as I was the one to rescue her in Karachi and help her escape to America. Her recent visit to the homeland was business related not pleasure, though I am sure-"

"Shut it." John snapped.

Sherlock complied before his eyes jumped to Mary who was listening for more intently than John, "So, what happened?" Mary asked.

Another deep breath and then Sherlock dove in, "I received a text from Miss. Adler telling me it would be to my advantage to meet her at her country home as she had some valuable information that could help me with a case I was working on for Mycroft. The nuances of the case are rather boring and I only took the case to keep my mind off the recent events that had transpired between Miss. Hooper and myself. I went to meet Miss. Adler and found myself in a double cross-"

John snorted, "no surprise there."

Sherlock nodded, "I half expected as much, but I also know how resourceful she can be- "

"Yes, we all know she's the perfect example of womanly cleverness and you adore her powers of persuasion, how did Molly get involved?" John asked, his patience growing thin.

"Rude." Sherlock murmured before he took another sip of coffee and continued giving Mary, who was smirking, a secret smile over the rim of his coffee mug.

"Miss. Adler wanted some information on my brother. When I refused to give her the information she wanted she threatened to bring Molly in. Obviously logic would dictate I not say a word, and allow Molly to be pulled in and most likely tortured and killed in an attempt to get me to aqueous. I knew eventually someone would notice my absence and come looking, but I also knew Molly would be involved long before anyone could get me out of that garish house. So, I did the only thing I could-"

"You told Adler everything she wanted to know-" Mary said as she started to clean Lizzy up.

"Yes, but I left a few very important details out, hoping Miss. Adler would take what I gave her and move on. To my utter annoyance she still pulled Molly in, either because she wanted a new play thing or because she thought she could hurt me."

"Why would Adler be so petty, she doesn't seem the type, not to mention the history you two share- I wouldn't think she would want to get on your bad side. Why hurt you, what would she gain at that point when she had the information?"

"I believe Miss. Adler came to be aware of Molly's rather ardent infatuation with me. She was curious, more so than anything else, of my own feelings for Molly. After our brief stint in Karachi Adler was still under the impression I was disinclined to have any form of dalyence with sentiment. This opinion changed on the night right before we left for American-"

It took John a second but Mary was right on top if it, "So you two-"

"No. I tried, she refused. The next day we parted ways and she went to America. When she gained her knowledge of Molly and my seemingly strong attachment to her Irene became determined to bring her in and figure out what the true nature of our relationship was."

"That seems- so petty for someone like Adler, so emotional and-"

"Strange." Mary finished and agreed as she nodded to her husband.

"I agree. Needless to say Molly showed up on the second day of my absence, decked out with surgical tools from the morgue and an outfit more becoming of a prostitute than anything my pathologist would actually wear. Suffice-it-to-say, she got me out but not before Miss. Adler's true plan was revealed."

"And what was her true plan in all this?" Mary asked skeptically.

"I believe, for saving her life in Karachi and her subsequent dismissal of my advances, Miss. Adler was attempting to play match maker."

John at that moment, spit his coffee out over the rim of his cup and onto his pant leg, "Blood hell she was-" he gasped as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked to Sherlock in shock.

"It all made sense. She wanted to pay me back for Karachi, but all Miss. Adler knows about paying men back involves money or-"

"Ahem, yes we know her preference Sherlock." Mary said rather prudently, the tone strange coming from someone so very much NOT a prude.

"I suppose, as I had no interest in money and Adler's preference in lovers laid with the more feminine sex, she thought bringing me and Molly together, the woman in question being steadfast, loyal and intelligent would be a proper thank you. Unfortunately, that also meant she gave Molly a taste for blood, showed her the very world I've been trying to keep her away from for seven years and forced me to show my hand."

"Show your hand?" John asked for clarification, though he was sure he knew what Sherlock meant.

"My- preference towards Molly. My- fondness of her." Sherlock said, looking woefully uncomfortable for the first time since his arrival, resentment for having to 'clarify' written all over his stiff back and balled up fists.

A superior smirk spread across John's face as he chewed at some sausage and then he licked his lips and said, "Fondness. Hmm. Not sure that cuts it mate, judging from what Mary and I saw last night. What happened after Adler tried to hook you up with our infamous pathologist?"

Sherlock looked away and John pulled back his snarky attitude a bit, he could see this was not easy and the last thing he wanted was Sherlock shutting down, Mary would kill him, this was far better then the day time telly she'd been stuck with and John could tell the woman was hooked.

"Adler had given me a truth serum a few hours prior to Molly showing up. Though, thanks to my excessive drug use in my youth and some samples of truth serum used for MI6 from Mycroft, I am mostly immune. As long as I can focus I can negate most of the effects. I was able to give Adler mostly truth and leave out the important bits. By the time Molly got me out of there and we were on our way to the car my focus on controling the drugs effects was compromised. With in minutes I felt the over powering urge to tell her all about my- feelings. Needless to say I acted rather ungentlemanly towards her, told her I was in love with her and then left her standing in the woods alone."

"Oh god!" Mary exclaimed, biting her bottom lip and wiggling slightly in her seat.

"Jesus." John whispered.

"Needless to say- it was a bit not good and Molly became distraught."

"A bit? You utterly cocked it up." John snapped.

"I left for Baker street and Molly followed. I should think you can piece together everything after that as you decided to sit and watch our interaction as if we were one of those daytime dramas John favors-"

"You favor." John said under his breath.

"So, after we left?" Mary asked.

Sherlock gave her a tiresome look, almost as if to ask, Really? You're really going to make me talk about it?

Mary nodded for Sherlock to continue and he rolled his eyes before he looked to his nails and pretended to appraise them.

"I am sure you can imagine the domestic that took place after you all left-"

"Pah! Not really." Mary said with a breathy laugh.

"Well, there was a domestic, you can text Mrs. Hudson if you want the details. She was listening through the vents as is her M.O. whenever she's had her herbal soothers but can't get her channels to come through."

"So, you two had a domestic, but what was the end result? Is Molly leaving?" John asked, placing his elbow on the table and leaning forward a bit.

"Leave? Why should she leave? She got what she wanted. If she were to leave now I'd imagine she'd be more of a masochist then I thought."

"Wait- wait- so you and Molly Hooper are-"

"Together. Yes. All part of the plan." Sherlock confirmed, his fingers tapping rapidly on the table.

John leaned back, a breathy whistle escaping past his lips before he realized what Sherlock said and then leaned forward, "Plan? What plan? You planned all this? You and Molly-"

"No, of course not. As I've said before I am married to my work. I do not DO sentiment. But Molly was most persistent. And it occurred to me that if Adler knew of her interest in me others might know as well. For now, it would be best to keep Molly close, make sure Adler was the only one aware of Molly's importance to me. I shall give her what she wants. Me. I will be her- boyfriend, but I will not be feeding into her more than unrealistic fantasies of me, I shall be myself and spare her no illusions. She will tire of me in a few weeks and break it off. Thus, getting what she's always wanted. A chance. When that chance doesn't work due to her inability to cope with my idiosyncrasies there will be an amicable break up because she will have come to her senses, I will still have my pathologist and all of Molly's desires for an opportunity to try dating me will have been answered. It will all go back to normal and we can ALL put this behind us."

Silence filled the room, both Mary and John staring at him in shock, eyes wide and mouth agape. Sherlock sipped up the rest of his coffee, "Now, I have some business to attend to before I'm to meet Molly this evening for a- date night." The T's coming out sharp as he said it in a most distasteful fashion before rolling his eyes, "so I will be off. And now that you are all caught up I do hope these facts I've given you will be kept between us. I want this plan to go off without a hitch, by the end of the month I want my bachelorhood, and my flat, back."

"You flat?" Mary asked in surprise.

"The wretched woman hasn't left yet, she called into work today and has been at my flat since then. What is it about women and their need to stay under foot? We've not even been dating 24 hours and she is like my shadow. It was all I could do to keep her from coming with to share the good news. Thanks for breakfast Mary, John. Laters." Sherlock had crossed to Mary and kissed her on the cheek before false saluting to John and striding from the house.

Lizzy let off a squeal and a giggle, clapping her fat little hands together, seemingly overjoyed at the current predicament. But Mary looked to John as she heard Sherlock shut the front door and an image of terror came across her face, "He is in utter and total denial-"

"Oh my god yes." John said as he continued to stare after his friend, a look of worry etched so deeply into his features he thought perhaps it may never slip from him. Sherlock had just gotten himself hooked, and no matter what he claimed or how he lied to himself, he was absolutely infatuated with Molly Hooper.

Across town Molly was stepping out of the shower at Baker street, having just woken up and had not at all been aware of Sherlock's departure to 'share the good news.' She was surprised he had not woken her as she was about to be late to work. As she stepped out of the bathroom with a towel tightly secured around her waist, a kink in her neck from sleeping on the couch (at her own request, as she was not wanting to pressure Sherlock at all after such an emotional night) she saw a note and a pile of clothes on the kitchen table.

She walked forward and glanced at the note which was in Sherlock's long spidery writing.

Molly,

Called you into work due to exhaustion from late night, you snored. I fetched some clothes from your flat as you make a terrible cat woman, also fed your cat, which you should have destroyed immediately, he is evil! Took your keys and your car. Do whatever you wish but stay out of my room. Be back after noon, possibly with food. If you must eat due to the well documented 'woman munchies' avoid second and fifth shelf of fridge as the parts you gave me last month may have molded. Also, don't drink my Horlicks.

Sherlock

P.S. I should tell you to have a good day right? I believe I should, good day.

Molly was smiling so hard by the end of the letter she nearly started to laugh. She retrieved her phone from her purse and took a picture of the letter, "Absolutely adorable." Molly murmured.

She thanked Sherlock and all the god's known to man for the comfy outfit the detective had picked out for her and changed in the bathroom before putting her makeshift spy outfit into a plastic bag, no love lost, and shoved it into the bin. She opened the fridge and scanned through, trying to find anything to tide her over until Sherlock returned, 'possibly with food'.

That's when a rather nasty looking plastic container on the fifth shelf caught her eye. She reached in and tentatively pulled it out before lifting the corner up and peeking in, "Oh my, Mr. Sander's kidney- it looks gelatinous-" and that's when Molly realized, she had the day off, body parts at her disposal and a full blown chemistry set resting not even five feet behind her all set up.

A smile creeped across her face as she started to pull out containers and search through to see what Sherlock had left of all the things she had been getting him. She felt like a mad scientist but she couldn't help it, this was a rare opportunity to have some fun without worrying about protocols, paper work or clearance.

She'd always wanted to see what would happen to an eyeball that was lit on fire- but would Sherlock care? He did this stuff all the time. And he did say it was all moldy and that she could do whatever she wanted- she could bring him new parts later. He had taken her keys and car and she was stuck here unless she wanted to walk about London all day, cabs being much to expensive and the tub just made her feel tired even thinking about it.

"Alright, Mr. Sanders, let's see what happens when your moldy kidney meets a solution of-" Molly picked up a nearby phile and read the label, "Oh! Hydrochloric acid, lovely."

Meanwhile, Sherlock spent the rest of the morning running down the events that had occured the previous night with Mycroft, assuring him he was able to avoid spilling the more sensitive bits of information and that his brother had nothing to worry about. Mycroft seemed more than a little interested in Molly's performance she well as her psycological response to the situations that had occured. As well as reminding Sherlock that caring was not an advantage. Sherlock did not fail to notice Anthea in the corner, making notes and sherlock felt several foreign feelings well up in his chest, the most prominent being the desire to strengle his brother for even talking about her as if she was some newby field agent. Upon his departure he felt the need, though it was strange, to warn his brother off persuing anything else regarding his pathologist and future missions.

Afterwards he went to Lestrade in search of a case, the man only had a five but Sherlock took it up anyway and had it solved in less than two hours. Then he spent thirty minutes tracking down Billy and checking up on his homeless network, something he rarely felt the need to do, but none the less found several members of his network had gone missing. That took up another few hours of his time only coming to find the small group had saved all the money they had received from Sherlock over the years and had pooled it together to purchase a very small studio flat which they had been using as a home base to get their lives back on the right track. Sherlock had been rather pleased with the outcome and wished them luck, hoping their endeavour to leave the homeless world behind was sucessful.

Every single one offered him thanks and their help in the future if he should ever need it. Sherlock tucked a note away in the back of his mind to keep track of where each ended up, as any jobs they managed to get could be useful in the future for a case.

He finally ended up on a bench in Regent's park, pulling from his pocket a pack he had acquired from Billy and lighting a cigarette, taking a drag and savouring the nicotine rush.

Closing his eyes he started the arduous process of organizing all the new data and events of the day, deleting what wasn't important and filling the rest under the proper category before tucking them into whatever room was appropriate. In all his sorting and organizing he continued to avoid the door at the end of the hall, a set of swinging ones that led to a place with dead bodies, chemicals and a petite woman who had braided hair and a lab coat. The piles and stacks of information remained outside her door in a state of perpetual disarray.

When he was finally done with the rest of it he turned his eye towards the morgue doors and very slowly started to approach. He heard whispers in the back of his mind, John and Mary-

Jesus, she loves you you know- your only going to crush her-

Why not give her a chance, give loving her and being loved a chance-

Sherlock placed his hand on the doors, side stepping the piles carefully, he pushed through and found the morgue and lab from Bart's merged into one large space, a cat sitting on one of the slabs, his tail moving languidly.

His eyes scanned the space taking in the small splashes of pink coloring and flower print thay were new to the room. The cat hissed at him amd he made a face, he would have deleted the beast by now if not for the displeasure it would have caused his mind Molly.

At the sudden thought of her Sherlock felt a ripple in his subconscious and then a small hand was resting on his chest, he looked down to see her standing there and gazing up at him with a stoic calm that made his stomach clench.

"Why has your room changed, I told you to stop trying to decorate." His tone was stern but held traces of indifference.

"I don't take orders from you, not out there, or in here. Coffee?"

"Why won't you listen to me, I've warned you off. Your just being stubborn."

"Why should I listen? You've not given me reason to anyway. Coffee?"

"No, no coffee! Just tell me how to sway you away from me- how to remove you with out actually getting rid of you from my life. How do I destroy your love for me."

Molly, whose hand was still resting solidly on his chest, leaned forward and placed her head over his heart, "Funny thing about love, you can't really ever destroy it. It can be transformed, manipulated or lessened over time, but it can't truly be destroyed or removed. Once it's roots take hold it becomes too invasive to dig up. It buries deep, holding hard and firm in the Earth. You'll not destroy my love for you, but you could transform it into hate- maybe even resentment."

"That would be less then ideal- both of those emotions would cause an interruption in our daily routines. And I need you close." Sherlock's hand came up to cover her own, his jaw using the crown of her head as a resting place.

"Then maybe you shouldn't destroy it, maybe you should nurture it, turn it into something that could benefit you in the long run. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to hold onto now that John is gone? To always have someone on your side, someone who cares- cares enough for the both of you. And to kiss someone, wouldn't that be grand- kissing and touching- your skin has been neglected you know, your body too."

"The body is just transport."

"Mmm- pity, I'd like to touch you, all the time, not just for sentiment, but because I can tell, that after all these years- you want to be touched. Perhaps you should pay a visit to door number 10, down in Basic Information. Check movie reel triple XM. It could prove enlightening."

Mind Molly seemed to be done with him and she went back to doing whatever she was doing prior to Sherlock's impromptu visit.

He stared after her before he turned his head and glanced to where the doors to Molly's room had been, in their place was an elevator, apparently his mind was complying with out his concent.

He moved slowly but stepped in and took the elevator down, aiming for the second floor which held basic information that had never been revisited after he turned sixteen.

After he had built his mind palace all the basic information he had obtained prior to its construction was boxed up and placed down here, left to collect dust, take up space and rot.

He stepped from the elevator to see a hall that was dimly lit, filled with chaos, cobwebs and peeling paint. He definitely needed to renovate this section of his palace soon or the foundation could rot out from under him. Puddles of greasy water and muck washed around the floor, doors were badly damaged but still firmly shut. He came to room ten and felt anxiety build in his chest, he opened the door and stepped in to see an ancient looking home style theatre.

To the side were mountains of boxes with no organization whatsoever and it took him quite a bit of time to find the right box. He opened it, found the reel labeled Triple XM which looked nearly new compaired to the others which looked rusted and burnt up and brought the film to the player. He hooked it up, fed the film through and then hovered his finger over the on switch. He debated, unsure of what he was going to see, but finally flicked the switch and the room lit up with screens that surrounded him.

The images that played sent a surge of intense panic and arousal through him. Every possible way he could take Molly Hooper was flashing before his eyes. Their moans, gasps and groans swirling to create a soundtrack of sheer ecstacy. His eyes took it all in and he realized in that moment why the film reel had appeared new. These were all recent scenarios his mind had concocted that he had instantly placed as far away from his conscious mind as possible. Images of them in the lab, at her flat, the stairwell of his home, against the green Range Rover outside Irene's country home, his bedroom and hers, the floor, the couch, his table- the number of locations was daunting, staggering actually.

The styles of sex varied, some slow and passionate while other were rough and aggressive, some even borderline disturbing. One involved ropes, chains and a rather scary looking version of himself complete with a whip. Another seemed to involve different sweets like chocolate, cake and icing.

The one that really caught his attention though was directly to his left. Molly sat upon one of the lab benches, Sherlock pressed between her thighs and his hand down her trousers. Her head was thrust back in utter oblivion as his hand stroked her and his mouth bit into her neck. Something so powerful yet gentle about the coupling that Sherlock didn't even notice his breathing increase.

"Silly isn't it?" the detective jumped at the voice and turned to see mind Molly standing in the corner, her lab coat was buttoned all the way down, but her feet and legs were bare.

"What?" Sherlock asked with breathless anticipation.

"You say the body is just transport- as if the body is what controls the flow of sexual desire and therefor ignoring it also allows you to ignore your baser instincts. But the truth of the matter is, the sex drive is all in the mind. The body is just how you are able to act upon it, bring your minds desires to the surface and make it palpable."

Mind Molly's fingers went to her buttons and started to undo her lab coat. Sherlock watched, his gaze intense, his lips parted as she undid them all and then slid the coat from her body, revealing her naked flesh.

"In all reality Sherlock, you can't ever really deny or escape your own desires, you can only delay them. Eventually- no matter how long it takes, your mind will find a way to make it happen. It's not impossible to ignore or resist your bestial urges, but it is impossible to get rid of the desire completely."

She was pressing herself against him now, rubbing her hands across his chest and then up his neck to thread her fingers through his hair.

"Monks can do it-" Sherlock started but Molly only smiled, "Even Ghandi had a wife-"

Her lips grazed his own and Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed as his breathing came in short puffs, "All I'm saying Sherlock is that even when you deny yourself, the proof that your desires are only on hold is all around you. If you ever want to endulge- you know I can help, and unlike Miss Adler I won't make you regret it later."

"It's all rubbish-" Sherlock murmured.

"It's your mind Sherlock, I didn't put any of these thoughts in here, nor did I save them and hide them away, you did."

Her lips pressed onto his and he was about to open his mouth to her when something shocked him from his palace. He was sucked from the room and down a hall, Molly was left standing in the dark looking after him with a loving smile.

Sherlock jerked in his seat on the bench and swung around madly looking around to see it was pitch black out, his phone pinged and he realized it was nearly eleven o'clock in the evening, "Shite." he hissed. But instead of jumping up from his bench in Regent's park he simply stared at the text from Molly.

Hey, I ordered take-away so no worries about being home with food if you're busy. Take your time. I got some for you too. Also, it's okay you took the car but I will need to go home tonight as I do work tomorrow and should probably make sure Toby is alright. If I am asleep when you come in just wake me up. No worries about movie night, as I am sure I don't have a single movie at my flat you would actually like. Hope you had a productive day, I know I did. -MH

He read it over and over, she wasn't mad he had practically stolen her car, she wasn't mad he had forgotten to bring food and had actually forgotten their movie night. She'd somehow managed to keep busy in the flat all day by herself- no need for Sherlock to babysit.

In all reality, Sherlock hadn't planned to forget about the REAL Molly. He hadn't planned to spent over two hours in his mind palace or get distracted by a case or spend four hours of the morning with his brother. He hadn't even meant to forget to feed his girlfriend. He had simply forgotten, replaced Molly with other things that seemed more important and in that moment guilt flared in Sherlock. It wasn't a foreign feeling persay, but it was rare.

Standing stiffly he made his way back to Molly's car and headed for her flat, trying to ignore the cascading images of them in various modes of coupling, cursing as he tried to shut the door to room ten. He didn't notice that the only thing keeping it from shutting was his own hand.

When he strode into Baker street, his arms laden with frivolous items and a rather nasty scratch on his cheek, he turned to look into the kitchen and all the things in his arms toppled free. There stood Molly, goggles on her face, hair up and holding a human eye that was being incinerated by a torch.

"Come on! BLOW UP! Zach said you would blow-" And then the eye exploded and small bits and pieces flew across the kitchen and Molly jerked so violently back that she fell from her stool, Sherlock jumping towards her instinctively until he heard the laughter spilling from her throat.

"Yes!" She cried as she tumbled across the floor, "EYEBALL ZERO, MOLLY ONE!" She stood and instantly started to scribble furiously on a notepad.

Sherlock was beside himself with shock, which for Sherlock, was a very hard task to accomplish. When he realized Molly was not aware of his presence he cleared his throat and the woman looked up through the thick lenses of the goggles.

"Oh! Sherlock! You just missed the most wonderful- I blew up an eye!" she said with such excitement that Sherlock wasn't sure how to respond, he settled with a small smirk and an "Mmm."

"I hope you don't mind, I may have gotten into some of the organs and such- I just couldn't help myself. I couldn't do any of this at Bart's, and since you were busy all day with a case I didn't think you'd mind that I took some liberties."

And image of himself taking his own liberties with her flew to the front of his mind and he instantly waved his hand before his face and if batting away an irritating fly.

When he refocused on her Molly had removed the goggles and was looking up at him with such an open and happy face Sherlock just continued to stare, he looked on across the table and saw all the different little pieces of liver, kidney, heart and eye that Molly had professionally cut up and started to experiment with.

"If you're upset about the eye I can get you a new one, or five. And don't worry, I am sure the pieces of eyeball will come off the wall. I mean, I will clean it before Mrs. Hudson- what happened to your face?"

Sherlock crossed to her, his eyes boring into her so intensely that Molly lost her breath mid-sentence and shut her mouth. As he looked down at her his eye glanced to the microscope on the table and he saw the slide under it, he leaned down and looked through, "That is one nasty kidney Miss. Hooper." his voice was just above a whisper, a deep throated purr.

"Wha- oh yes, Mr. Sander's kidney, it was lovely, I've not seen one with that level of decay in a long time. Just thought I'd see what kind of bacteria-"

"What other things have you elected to fry, blow up or slice apart?" Sherlock asked with interest, his eyes still scanning through the scope.

"Uhm, nothing of real scientific value. Just some old kid friendly experiments that I've always wanted to try on actual organs. You know, dying things different colors with Rebina or soaking an eye in soda to see how quickly the acid can dissolve it. No real scientific stuff. I did use some of your hydrochloric acid though- kind of went over board, I can replace your-"

"All experiments scientific, even if they are meant for children. I tried to blow up an eye too but I only ever managed to get it to disintegrate, how did you manage?"

Molly smiled sheepishly, "I had the same problem, went through a few before I did a lower level of heat-"

"Ah! A slow build of pressure from the inside of the eye- tried that, still just burnt it-"

"I soaked it in water first, after adding a small puncture to make sure it retained the water and-"

"You boiled it from the inside until-"

"Pop!" Molly said with a smack of her lips.

"Mmm, Interesting."

"I can clean up if you'd like- is that- is that Toby?" Molly asked looking past Sherlock to see the cat crate on the floor as well as a pile of movies and a large overnight bag.

"Hum? Oh yes, I picked stuff up, your stuff, I picked up some of your stuff, including that reincarnation of satan that you call a cat."

Molly rushed over and knelt before the cage, the cat letting out a mew that was so indignant Molly had to laugh, "Serves you right for scratching that handsome face. I should have you on my slab you know?"

"I'd be more then happy to help you strap the little monster down if you are serious, I've never experimented on a live animal before, but in this case, I'd happily make an exception."

"Another time perhaps, maybe if he eats all my cookies again, this cat is, in fact, on thin ice."

"Wonderful." Sherlock said with an evil smile, eyeing his new nemesis with cruel intent.

Molly stilled a moment and looked up at him, "Um, Sherlock- this is very thoughtful of you, but an overnight bag and my cat would imply I will be staying here longer than expected- is that alright with you? I mean, are you sure you are comfortable with-"

"Perfectly." was all he said in a very matter-of-fact way.

Molly gave him a warm smile before she knelt down and opened the cage to let Toby out. He sprinted from his carried and disappeared up the stairs in record time, "Won't see him for a bit I expect, until then I got some take away. I hope you like Chinese. It's on the counter for you. I already ate mine, though in hindsight not the best idea to eat and experiment, dropped an eye into my fried rice."

Sherlock chuckled, "I dropped an eye into my tea once, at least you could simply pick yours out. I had to use a fork to get the eye out of the mug and it ended up releasing persevering fluid into my drink. Rather nasty surprise, even after being reheated in the microwave."

"Uck." Molly said with a smile as she started to dig through the mess on the floor. Sherlock continued to stand in the kitchen and stare at her, a neutral expression on his face, his eyes taking in everything she did during the day by simply looking her up and down.

Molly bent forward, her shorts riding up a she started to pick up the dvds and Sherlock's eyes came to rest on her rather round bum.

"Mmm."

"What?" Molly asked looking up to him, Sherlock jumped forward and started to spit out words so fast even he couldn't understand himself, "MOVIES! I retrieved movies from your flat as well as your insufferable cat and clean work clothes, though if I were you I'd recommend switching up as some of those outfits are rather atrocious and don't flatter your figure at all, not that I care but people at work expect professionalism and I hardly think your outfits qualify as they seem to belong to a little girl who elected to dress herself-"

Molly had placed a finger on his lips and gave a soft understanding smile, "Thank you Sherlock, that was very logical of you. Why don't you take some time to eat and relax yourself and then, if you want to, we can watch a movie? Alright?"

Sherlock felt his cheeks start to heat up and he spun away from her quickly, "As you wish-" he said before disappearing into the bathroom, the weight of those three little words on Molly flying completely under his radar, she stood staring after him in shock before she looked down at the dvds on the floor and noticed that Princess Bride was among them.

When Sherlock emerged he was wearing pajama pants, a plain gray t-shirt and a blue robe. His hair hung in damp curls around his face and he was freshly shaved.

Swinging into the kitchen he scooped up the take away bag and then strutted out into the living room as if he was on a mission. Setting the bag on the coffee table he turned and walked over to his violin, which he expertly picked up and prepared to play before he stopped suddenly and turned.

His eyes came to rest on Molly who was scrunched up on the couch, an egg roll in one hand and a half-full glass of wine in the other, staring intently at a laptop, earbuds in her ears. She took another bite from the roll and absentmindedly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Sherlock hesitated as he realized he had already forgotten she had offered to watch a movie with him.

Want to watch a movie- a voice sounding suspicially like his mind palace Molly whispered, more images flew before his minds eye and he had to shake it clear before he cool again focus on Molly.

He slowly crossed to her and leaned over her laptop, the back of his head effectively blocking her view as he studied the screen. A pretty blonde woman was handing a brown water jug to a young farm hand, she obviously expected him to get her water, though he wasn't sure why the young man was complying.

"Ahem-"

Sherlock craned his neck and looked up at her, her eyes were sparkling and a funny smile was on her face, "I can't see through your head, Sherlock."

"Oh, right, pardon- am I supposed to want to watch this with you?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Not necessarily. I put in earbuds in case you wanted to play your violin instead or visit your mind palace. I can watch this alone-"

"I assumed date night meant we do something together-" Sherlock snapped standing up stiffly, pulling his violin close, he wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so offended. But he did and he gave her a look of hawty derision. At least he thought he had until Molly smiled and continued, "Normally, that's true, but you're not a normal guy Sherlock. I can't expect you to just conform to what is expected within the realms of average people. I don't want to change you Sherlock, I want to be with you, who ever you are. Which means, if a date night or movie night means you play violin while I watch a movie or I read while you experiment then that's what we do. I'll never make you do something you don't want to do- unless it really needs to be done, like cleaning the soap scum out of your shower, that's pretty gross and I work in a morgue."

Once again Sherlock stood still, shocked, his eyes were looking at the wall above Molly's head, his mind so deep in thought he didn't hear her calling to him.

Molly just sighed and went back to her movie, wine and egg roll. It was about forty-five minutes into the movie when he came out of his mind palace and he put down his violin before he walked over and sat down next to her. He took up his food and started to eat, pulling her headphone plug from the port. The sound came from the speakers and Molly looked to him, "Decided to join me then?"

"Mmm." was his only response as he shoved the remains of his cold dinner into his mouth.

"I'll restart it then-"

"No need, I am sure I can grasp- what is that?"

"It's an R.O.U.S, they're- well- rodents of unusual size- they are in the fire swap and Wesley is trying to- sod it, I am restarting it, I have to or you won't understand. He's a pirate so he goes on all these crazy adventures for Buttercup-"

"He's a pirate?" Sherlock asked perking up considerably.

"Yes, The Dread Pirate Roberts. Here, if you can, try to pay attention, or you will get confused, there is some identity switching that goes on-"

"Bait and switch? Sword fighting?"

"Oh yes, here-"

So, Molly restarted the movie and surprisingly Sherlock's eyes did not leave the screen. When the man with the six fingers was revealed Sherlock raved. The puzzles of the movie coming together as quickly for him as any other mystery would, but this did not deter him and Molly found Sherlock had a thing for pirates, and adventure stories.

As the movie progressed Sherlock slowly relaxed more and more and soon Molly found herself with his head in her lap as he stretched out, she heard his knees pop from being squished on the couch so long, "This position makes logical sense as I am tall and you are not-" he had said with out tearing his eyes from the screen.

Molly said nothing but dove right back into the movie herself, she did not realize her fingers were running absentmindedly through his curls, nor did she catch his little sigh of approval.

"YES! THAT MAN KILLED YOUR FATHER! LOOK AT HIS FINGERS! STAB HIM BACK, YOU IDIOT STOP LETTING HIM STAB YOU!"

"Shh, don't worry, Indigo get's him." Molly whispered.

"Good." Sherlock replied with vigor.

As the movie came to a close Molly didn't realize what scene was coming until it was too late. There was Wesley and Buttercup, upon their white steeds and the narrator spoke with conviction, "Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind."

She felt Sherlock stiffen, and only seconds too late realized why. He sat up quickly but continued to stare at the screen. Molly felt her face get red, her heart beat rapidly.

"Eh-it's my favorite movie. I've watched it ever since I was young. When you kissed me- it reminded me of this scene- I wasn't trying to- to live out some strange fantasy-"

Sherlock looked down at his hands which were on his knees and spoke softly, "You've fabricated a false Romeo, Molly. I am not a Wesley nor a prince charming. Why you've pressed so hard to be with me, why you've coveted me for so long is foolhardy and borderline masochistic. I've done nothing but put you off, I've never been nice to you and only used you to achieve my own ends."

"Sherlock, that's not true-"

"How do you know I am not using you now?" Sherlock looked to her then, his eyes holding a storm deep within them that Molly understood for what it was. Fear, anger and uncertainty. He could not see his own value therefor thought Molly was an idiot. He stood then and crossed the room to his violin. Molly reached out and shut her laptop, she watched him, eyes trained on his long slender fingers which gently touched the handle of his instrument.

His back was to her but he turned his head just enough to see her over his shoulder, "I do not believe, even with your purest heart and the best of intentions, you will still love me like you do in a week's time, let alone the rest of your life. I'd very much like to spare you the heart ach Molly Hooper, and ask that you seriously consider not continuing this thing we've started."

Molly stood slowly and approached him with deliberately cautious steps, she came up behind him and very tentatively wrapped her arms around his lean torso, resting her head on his back between his shoulder blades.

"Not to be over dramatic- but I'd rather have a week to love you then go a life time without ever trying."

She felt him take a slow deep breath, as he let it out he seemed to sag into himself a moment before he turned in her arms and looked down at her.

"I- I-" he closed his eyes and let more air flow out through his nose as he tried again, his frustration evident, "I. Love. You." he said it so harshly and with so much disdain Molly couldn't help the small prickle of disappointment, but it only lasted a moment and she was over it quickly as she realized how absolutely painful and humiliating that must have been for someone like him to admit.

"You've wormed your way into my heart like a parasite, you've invaded my mind in the most unwelcome way, you've striped me of my cold indifference and made me weak and I hate you for it." the venom in his voice made Molly stiffen, "Your obsessed, clingy, you push me to acknowledge your thoughts and feelings and worst of all you make me feel guilty. The fact that you are capable of making me feel anything at all disgusts me. And I find your infatuation with me far more comparative to that of a scientist with a magnifying glass then that of a woman truly in love. Your pathetic for loving me considering how abhorrently I've treated you and I think you are borderline insane."

Molly felt the tears well up in her eyes about halfway through his little rant, her heart breaking with each violent and hateful word he uttered. But she did not release him, continued to hold on to him and nuzzled her face into his chest.

"I love you too, Sherlock." she murmured softly, she refused to speak to his last verbal assault, refused to admit out loud that she agreed with him, that she must be insane to love him so desperately considering everything he'd put her through. But still she clung to him, nuzzled his chest and took in his scent through her nose, savouring it like a fine wine.

"Why won't you just- just leave." came his soft nearly achy reply.

Molly said nothing because in all honesty she didn't have an answer for that question. She had asked herself many times over the years and she'd never been able to figure out why she couldnt pry him from her heart, why she couldnt turn her back on him or refuse him anything.

So she remained silent.

Suddenly Sherlock's vice like grip was on either arm, wrenching her from his body and yet somehow dragging her towards the door leading to the stairs. He slammed her against it, though to Molly's surprise there was no pain. The heel of Sherlock's hands smashed into the door right by her head and Molly jumped a little before looking up into his face with confusion, "Why won't you leave!" he nearly yelled, "Are you stupid! Are you so blinded by the chemicals that are drugging your brain you can't see the danger your in, you can't see how badly I am going to cripple you, destroy you- I'd jump you right now and walk away if it meant getting you out of my hair! Out of my space, out of my mind and heart your wretched little creature, you vile-"

"I'll not be intimidated by you Sherlock Holmes and your false insults to try and detour me away from you won't work either. I've known you long enough to know when your panicking, when your scared but don't want anyone to know or see it. Your terrified that loving me back, giving in to sentiment is going to ruin you, will make people laugh at you. Well, you need an update Mr. Holmes because people aren't going to care one way or another! Just like I don't care if you call me every vile name under the sun, slam me against every door in London or leave me alone at your flat unattended for weeks at a time. I am ready for you- all of you- so stop it- just stop it!"

He stared at her, his face pale and his breaths coming in pants, sharp eyes twitching back and forth as he looked with such utter doubt. Hunched over her, his hands resting in fists on either side of her face he just stared and searched. Finally, as Molly was about to start saying something else his lips craned down into a frown and twitched in displeasure as he leaned in and took up her mouth with his.

Sherlock didn't waste any time in his kissing of her either. Soon his hands took up her jaw and his teeth bit into her bottom lip, nearly begging for entry. Molly complied with little resistance and soon his mouth was smoothly lapping into hers as his hands slid around her waist, his nimble fingers grazing her skin as they worked to get her shirt off. They broke the kiss long enough to remove the article over her head and then they were lost again in fevered brutal kisses and small moans of need.

When his hands slid over her exposed skin to come and firmly grip her arse Molly gasped into his mouth and Sherlock's response was instant. He gave a jerk, and Molly was wrapping her legs around his waist.

She felt him moving with her though she wasn't sure where they were going as her eyes were closed and her fingers were threading into his damp hair. Her lack of focus on her surroundings caused another little gasp of surprise when Sherlock tipped them over onto his bed and pinned her down.

He continued to kiss her though the blistering heat from before was slowly leaking away and Molly was starting to feel like they were coming down from some sort of mysterious tension that had been hanging in the air around them for a long time.

After several minutes, the kissing having mellowed to something akin to a languid snogging session between two teenagers, Sherlock pulled away and looked down on her. She peered up at him, her eyes under heavy lids, her head feeling intoxicated and bleary, he kissed her forehead and his lips lingered there, he murmured against her skin, "Damn you-" But there was no venom or spite. All signs of aggression, distrust and nervous anxiety having faded into something that sounded strangly like adoration.

"You should know I've never- I've never really-" But finishing seemed impossible for him, just one more humiliating thing he was trying to tell her that Molly picked up on right away.

He moved from her forehead to her cheek and then down to her neck, more light kisses being peppered along the way, "It's fine." Molly said softly, "We go as quick or slow as you want, we can learn what you like together- and we don't have to do anything that makes your any more uncomfortable then you already are." she cooed softly as her fingers gently continued through his hair and then down to his stiff back.

"So much to take in, I am being over loaded with data. Your smell and taste, sounds and textures- it irritates me to even try cataloging everything, to much data and it gets so tedious. I can't turn it off Molly." he said as he kissed between her breasts, his hand coming to caress the fabric of her bra.

"Then we go slow. Take it one piece at a time, catalog as you go and if it gets to be to much we stop."

"Mmm- I'm not sure slow and steady will win the race in this case Miss. Hooper."  
Molly groaned as his hand slid up under her bra and came to stop at her nipple, he gently pinched it between two fingers and when her back arched Molly swore she heard him murmur the word 'Interesting-'

He repeated this action several times, each time pinching a little harder, the last time adding a very light twist to the now thuroughly abused bud.

Molly was panting by now, gasping and wreathing under him and Sherlock couldn't help but notice his own often wayward thoughts were honing in on the woman beneath him. Slowly, the extra input that his eyes usually noticed faded and all he was was a woman below him with swollen lips, ruddy cheeks and a look of utter oblivion on her face.

"Now that truly is interesting-" he murmured as he reached a hand under her and unclasped her bra with a rather impressive flick of his wrist.

Grabbing the material at it's connection point between her silky mounds he pulled it away to reveal her perky breasts. He looked upon them a moment but saw nothing within his minds eye besides the possibilities of what he could do to them. No words, no images and no deductions.

"Finally-" he whispered as he leaned down and took a firm bud into his mouth. Molly really seemed to come undone then and her nails dug into his shoulders and he nipped, sucked and licked at her breasts with a vigor that could rival any man.

Molly started to slid his robe off his shoulders, Sherlock helping as well as continuing the process onto his shirt. They were both bare from the waist up now and as soon as Molly's hands touched his chest, a pair of fingers dragging to one of his own nipples which was then very tentatively pinched Sherlock gasped I against her breast and instantly took up her wrist, holding it still and silently bidding her to pause.

"I'm sorry-" Molly said as she looked to him with worry.

"It's fine- just- just give me a moment." Molly nodded and after a few seconds, Sherlock seemingly focusing on the strong sensation and trying to register and absorbed it into his mind, he released her hand and urged her to continue.

From there it was a little more fast paced, he removed her pants and her lace panties, which Molly noticed he tucked into the pocket of his pajama pants. Then she slid down his pants, gently tracing her fingers over the contours of his arse, which Sherlock also had to freeze to momentarily absorbed and catalog. At least, that's what she assumed he was doing, his eyes would close, his body would still and he would be gone from their current situation for several seconds.

At this point they were both naked, pressed skin to skin and kissing with deadly heat. Molly was still on her back, Sherlock pinning her down and resting against her, his hips pressing between her legs.

"Are you ready-" he asked softly against her lips, "For what?" Molly asked, but she got no reply as she felt his hand start to skin down. Her breathing instantly intensified and she closed her eyes and bit her lips and his fingers came to her soft mound of hair. Slowly, his fingers slid down, her slick little nub electrified and hot. As his finger finally connected with his she let out a high pitched whine and her shaking hands fisted the bed sheets.

Sherlock watched her hands as they dug in, watched her body quake with intimidation and her mouth morph into some expressive form of ecstacy. His fingers moved achingly slow as they gently rubbed and stroked her little bundle of nerves and Molly's hips bucked against him instinctively.

"Oh god, please Sherlock- please-" It was the first time he had ever heard her beg, the first time she ever sounded truly desperate for him. Something inside Sherlock seemed to snap then, a feeling close to euphoria shot into his brain and in that moment, with Molly's little utterances floating across her lips and into his ears, nothing else mattered at all.

He started to message her clit in earnest and she started to truly buck below him, begging him for more, to go faster to let her cup and Sherlock Holmes came undone.

His fingers left her clit and slid down to her entrance where he pressed all three digits in at once, Molly's back arched off the bed at such an angle her hip bones stuck out like horns. Sherlock felt a heat pool deep in his belly and as he hooked his fingers to press and rub against her steaming flesh he leaned down and bit into her neck, "Oh my god! Oh Sherlock! Yes, god yes!"

The positive feedback spurred him on and he felt an intensely strong feeling of satisfaction, possessive need and hard earned pride. He continued to do the things that she responded the most positively too and before long he felt her muscles clamp down around his fingers.

Sherlock jumped a little and felt his cock twitch and his balls tighten as he felt Molly orgasim on his fingers, juices and new smells assaulting his senses but in no way turning him off.

When Molly lay back and her body finally relaxed he looked upon her, leaving his fingers in her swollen cavity to continue to feel the minor after shocks and twitches of her body as she came down.

Her entire appearance was so far gone from the well groom immaculate Molly he knew from Bart's that he almost worried he broke her. But he drank it all in, from her ruddy skin, to her peaceful yet smile filled face, her eyes which were nearly sparkling with delight as she stared at the ceiling, seemingly looking at nothing. Her whole body seemed to vibrate, hum and glow in the most interesting way. He was noticing everything, including the feelings of her soft interior both before and after a climax.

When she looked to him and sighed he felt his heartbeat increase, "Your turn." she murmured and an excitement he hadn't even realized he'd been experiencing exploded in his belly.

Sherlock felt himself move into a slightly different position, he felt his hands take up her hips and saw the way she was looking at him with intoxicated eyes and a sultry smile and even though his mind was trying to decipher the look she was giving him his body seemed to be on autopilot and before he was even aware of what his body had elected to do on its own the sensation of sliding his member into a wet, tight heat swarmed into his mind and the ability to focus on anything but the imminent future of his release came crashing to a halt. Any stray thoughts, deductions or notes fell away and Sherlock jerked in shock before his body pressed further and he was lost to sensation.

He pressed deep, holding hard to her hips and burrowing into her neck. Something about disappearing into her neck, hair and scent filled him with more of the emotions from before, want, need, possession and comfort- and a word started to circle behind his closed eyes, shinning in bright white and flashing with each thrust he gave against her, MINE.

Sherlock had heard stories of the male condition, ancient instincts to claim a mate, reproduce and let no other male touch her. But this moment put things in prospective, logically, no male should want his mate to reproduce with another as it lessens his chance of passing on his DNA through offspring.

But this feeling he was having, it was more unanimous with the idea of not wanting to let another man touch her because she belong to him now. It had nothing to do with DNA, offspring or dominance and all about wanting her to focus on him, want him, need him. To be dedicated and in tune with his touches and kisses and smells. Sherlock suddenly realized that Molly's body, while hers, was now also his. She was sharing her body with him, they were connected and she was allowing him to use her body to reach a peak of utter oblivion. She was trusting him to not abuse her, to not get carried away and hurt her and to essentially be able to remove himself from her when done without any pain, physical or otherwise.

"Sherlock! Oh please do that again! Harder please harder!" There was the begging again, pushing him on and stroking his already inflated ego. He smiled into her neck and started to suck on the tender skin. One hand strayed from her hip to come up and pinch a nipple.

She jerked beneath him and before Sherlock knew what he was saying he was pressing his lips to her ear and a beast had taken over his mouth, "I'd take you every day Molly Hooper. I could listen to you beg all night long. When I cum inside you I want you to take every drop and savour the feeling knowing it won't be the last time my seed will be filling your-"

Molly's head flew back then and Sherlock gritted his teeth as he realized he had complied to her wishes with out figuring out why she had asked in the first place and as a second orgasim rippled through her Sherlock grunted and moaned himself due to the tightening around his member.

He continued to thrust against her and that's when he spilled over, Molly's tightness becoming to much. Light exploded before his eyes as he pinched them tightly closed, his nails dug into whatever skin they could find and his back muscles strained to keep him up as he felt a ungodly pleasure sweep through him, filling his body with such ecstacy and intoxicated bliss he wasn't sure whether he was in a drug den with Billy or his bed with Molly Hooper.

He stilled pressed into her, small twitches emanating from his body as goosebumps erupted over his skin, small less blunt pleasure continuing to make his cock jerk and empty into her.

That had to be the most satisfying feeling of all, though there was little data to explain why. But the more he came and filled her with his seed the more accomplished and intoxicated he felt. This was likely the most neanderthal he had ever felt his he really couldn't deny the satisfaction and accomplishment he felt about it.

He sling down onto her, once again his body moving with out his mind being attached and he was suddenly holding Molly against him and gently kissing her shoulder.

"That was amazing Sherlock. Thank you." she whispered.

His felt his ego bristle with pride again and grunted as he started to come back to himself and realize how quickly that had got out of hand.

"I thank you for consenting to share your body with me." Sherlock spouted before he could even think about trying to say something more important.

"It's yours now too. If you want it." Molly said sheepishly.

Sherlock pulled her closer despite his discomfort on the matter of cuddling and whispered into her ear, "I have collected an absorbadent amount of data which I would like to share with you. I think as a scientist you will find it most interesting, especially in regards to ancient man and the evolution of mating rituals and their meaning."

Molly giggled, "Sounds wonderful actually, I can't wait to see what you've come up with."

"Mmm." Sherlock responded. They lay that way in silent for several minutes before Sherlock leaned up to look at Molly's face, "How long is the appropriate amount of time to spend cuddling after copulation?"

Molly looked at him and then sighed, "Alright, go start your blog and I will shower and join you shortly."

"Excellent!" Sherlock said hopping up from the bed and rushing to get dressed.

Molly watched him from the bed with a smile on her lips and rolled her eyes as he rushed out of the room with excitement in his steps and his rob tangled about his arms and head.

She sighed and looked down at her hands, "Right." glancing to the bedside table she realized it was three in the morning.

"Oh god-" she plopped back down onto the bed only to jerk her head up as Sherlock rushed back in, he placed his hands on the edge of the bed and leaned in and kissed her on the nose.

"Change of plans, Lestrade just texted, I've got a case, hurry up with the shower we need to be out the door in less then fifteen minutes."

"Wha- uh Sherlock- no I have to work in less then six hours."

"Nope, already called you in. Now hurry up woman- we've got things to do!"

He was already stripping from his pajamas and changing into his signature suit, Molly's favorite purple shirt sliding up his arms and getting buttoned.

Sherlock turned to her and paused, "Why are you still naked, you should hurry if you want to shower."

"Sherlock-" Molly started to protest but Sherlock instantly crossed to her and sat next to her, "We have little time so please allow me to say this quickly, don't ask a bunch of questions and please try to understand. I just had sex with the only woman I think I have ever loved, it was also my first time- I've not had time to catalog anything nor sort through my thoughts on it. I know little about proper dating procedure but I do know I shouldn't rush off after our first time together. However this case proves to be a 8 and I'd really like to go. Since I do not feel comfortable leaving you so soon after our intimate joining but I can't pass up on the case I am- asking that you accompany me so that I may rest easy in knowing I have not handled this inappropriately. "

"Oh Sherlock-" Her smile spread like a wild fire across her face as she stared at him, "No, no crying, stop, just say yes and get dressed." he looked at her petulantly and then waited.

"Alright. Let's go."

Sherlock gave her another quick peck before he shot up, dragging a naked Molly to the bathroom before pushing her in, "Your on the clock Hooper! Hurry up!"

He heard her scoff and then start the shower, Sherlock hesitated before he leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, a vary rare full smile etching onto his face as he heard Molly stumbling about.

He righted himself instantly as she cracked the door, "You've no hit water-"

"I know, I turned off the boiler in hopes of expediting your shower."

"I- what? SHERLOCK!"

He leaned down and locked her lips with his, sliding his tongue I to her mouth and humming with delight when she kissed him back, "Hurry up love, we've got dragon's to slay."

"Okay-" Molly said breathlessly shutting the door quickly, Sherlock chuckled exuberantly when he heard her hiss and curse through the door.

"Excellent." he said heading to grab his coat, everything was going according to plan.

The End 


End file.
